


Angel Of Music

by loveisgravity



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, BroTP Nicole and Jeremy, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Female Lead Waverly, Fluff, High School Musical - Freeform, Nicole Haught 1st person POV, Phantom of the Opera - Freeform, Stage Crew Nicole, brief homophobic language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-04-24 08:59:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 52,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14352219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveisgravity/pseuds/loveisgravity
Summary: Purgatory High is putting on “Phantom of the Opera” as the spring musical, Nicole is leader of the stage crew and Waverly is the female lead.  Will Nicole ever get the courage to step out from behind the spotlight and let her own feelings shine?





	1. Act 1

**Author's Note:**

> The story title is taken from the “Phantom of the Opera” song title “Angel of Music,” by Andrew Lloyd Webber.

Angel of Music

Overture:

Do you remember your first big crush? Of course you do, everyone does. Mine was on the girl next door... well, next locker anyway.

But how often does that crush work out? Yeah, not often. The movies totally lie about that. In reality, the guy doesn’t get the girl, or in my case, the girl doesn’t get the girl. That would be too over the top, too cliched. There are no REAL happy endings, right?

Well, in this case, there is. Only, I didn’t believe in that kind of crap until it happened to me. 

It was the second semester of my senior year in high school and I was head of the stage crew for the spring musical. We were putting on “The Phantom of the Opera,” and she was Christine. Ok, so she was Waverly playing Christine, but she was Christine. And I was so in love with her...

 

Act I:

“Nicole!” 

My head jerked up as I rushed past the band room, I was late to chorus and knew that I would catch hell from the teacher. I was always running late for chorus. But like a good little girl, I turned around and acknowledged the voice of an elder. The band director, Mrs. Mahoney, rushed to the classroom door when I stopped for her.

“Nicole, I’m glad I caught you,” She wore a white, satin blouse that barely contained her ample chest and was cut distressingly low. “we’re starting to plan out the spring musical and I was hoping you were going to be a part of the stage crew again this year?” 

I swear I didn’t want to, but my eyes focused on her cleavage anyway. 

I quickly looked up and flashed her my dimpled smile, the one that old people loved, the one my grandfather would pinch and say was cute, the one that did nothing to actually get me a date. Then it was just meatloaf. 

“Sure, of course I’ll help out.” I said, running my hands back through my chin length, brown hair. 

Fuck, stop looking at them.

“That’s great! Thank you. Actually, do you have a minute?” Mrs. Mahoney asked, shifting her weight from one large hip to the other.

“Actually, I’m late for chorus, can I stop by after that?” I stared at my shoes and tugged at the bottom of my untucked, blue flannel shirt. Then I shoved my hands deep in my jean pockets. 

“This will just take a moment, I’m sure Roger won’t mind.” She swayed back to her desk like music was playing out of her ass.

She was talking about Roger McCannon, the Choir Director and assistant director of the school musical. It was really weird to hear her address him by his first name with me, but I guessed that was a privilege of being both a senior and the longest serving member of the stage crew. Either that, or she forgot I was still a student. Adults do that at times. If you act good enough, they forget you’re still a kid.

I reluctantly followed her into the room. For being a band room, there were very few actual instruments in there. Just an old upright piano at the front of the classroom and a couple drum sets on the back platform in the rear of the room. Her desk was partially hidden off to the side behind the multi-leveled stage. I stepped over the bundle of power cords that ran off to the back wall, and over to her desk where Mrs. Mahoney had turned to face me with the biggest grin. It was the kind of grin that said- you are the lucky winner of a free vacation, and all you have to do is sit through this 3-day sales pitch. My gut immediately dropped a little. I looked back at the doorway and wished I could just go to class like I was supposed to. 

“I have some good news.” Her smile grew wider, and my gut sank more. I tried to give her another smile back, but it felt more like a grimace.

“You have been selected to be the leader of the stage crew for our spring musical.” She started.

Here comes the sales pitch, I internally groaned. I toed the loose end of some duct tape holding down the bundle of power cords with my well worn sneakers.

“And as such, you get to keep a copy of the production room key until the end of the show.”

I looked up at Mrs. Mahoney, wide-eyed in disbelief. A faint light of hope hit me... or maybe it was the overhead lights glinting off the key. It hung on a thin metal chain. Mrs. Mahoney held it out to me. My smile turned genuine again, because in high school everyone knows: keys mean power. I was being handed a ticket to coolsville. I took the key in my hand and the chain pooled into my palm.

“Now it goes without saying that this is a big responsibility, but I trust you not to misuse the key, Nicole.” Mrs. Mahoney launched into an obligatory lecture on trust and responsibility. Blah, blah, blah. Adults always have to do that. They can’t just hand you the key and say- hey, I know you’re smart, you’ll make good decisions, that’s why I’m giving this to you. 

“You’ll be my right hand man, well woman that is, during the show. I’m really looking forward to working with you again. This will be your final show!” She sounded so excited for me. “Do you know what you’ll be doing when you graduate?”

“Ah, yeah, I’m going to Nebraska.” I said, looking back over my shoulder at the clock hanging on the cinder block wall. 

“Oh, Lincoln is such a fun town.” She leaned against her desk so that I could see her cleavage again. “I went there, too.” She replied. “You’ll really love it. Big city, so much to do...”

Everyone from Nebraska goes there, I thought, trying to look anywhere but at her chest. “Ah, I should probably get to class.” I pointed at the doorway behind me.

“Oh silly me, of course I don’t want to keep you from class, just tell Roger I kept you, he’ll understand.” She waved me off. “Thank you, Nicole.”

“Sure,” I replied, walking out of the room. I placed the key chain around my neck and tried to wipe all thoughts of Mrs. Mahoney’s breasts from my mind. 

 

Back at my locker after school, I lingered around hoping that Waverly would stop by to pack up for the day. My locker door was open and I made a good show of slowly going through scraps of paper that had collected at the bottom since Christmas break. I wanted Waverly to see the key hanging around my neck.

I heard her before I saw her. Her voice was vanilla pudding, smooth and sweet. Unfortunately, when she rounded the corner of the hall, she was talking to Champ, her boyfriend. He, I did not care for, but they were usually inseparable. 

“Not tonight Champ, I have too much homework to do.” Her voice lilted up. Then, in a huskier whisper that managed to carry down the hall, she said, “Besides, I’ll see you this weekend.” 

“Whatever, baby, you totally can study at my place.” He wrapped his meaty arms around her tiny waist, engulfing her. 

I leaned into my locker and, hidden behind the door, fake gagged. How could she stand him? I mean, he was pretty. And I mean pretty. Like if he were a woman, he’d be fucking hot. But he was about as mysterious as butter and almost as intelligent.

Sometimes when we were alone at our lockers, Waverly talked to me about adventure, wanting to experience new things, see new places, which is really hard to do from the middle of a corn field in the middle of Nebraska. She wanted to travel the world, maybe live in New York or L.A. But according to Waverly, Champ’s idea of adventure was colorful condoms. 

As they stepped up to her locker, Champ said, “But baby, I’m going to miss you tonight.” Then he practically swallowed the side of her face in a series of kisses. Waverly looked at me with an expression that said- men, am I right?

I gave her a sympathetic smile, but looked away as his kisses creeped up over her forehead. Really? That’s sexy? I shook my head slightly as I stared at the pile of paper on my locker floor. I could do so much better. I would treat Waverly so much better. I fucking knew the definition of the word adventure.

Then I remembered my key. I turned to face Waverly. “Hey, guess what?” I said, ignoring the wet kiss marks on her face.

“What?” She looked over with her smile that burned through me. It literally seared me and I melted to putty before it.

I held out the key on the chain around my neck. I was hoping she’d step up to me to take a closer look.

“What’s that?” She asked, still smiling. 

I let the key drop back to my chest, and Waverly reached out with her small hand to pick it up, fingertips brushing against my shirt. She wore a thin gold band around her pointer finger, and it highlighted just how delicate her fingers were. She flipped the key around in her palm.

“It’s the key to the production room, Mrs. Mahoney made me head of the stage crew this spring.” I couldn’t help watching her fingers run over the smooth side of the key.

Champ smirked and mumbled, “You mean Big Guns Mahoney.” Waverly turned on him and smacked him on the chest.

“That’s awesome, Nicole.” She said, facing me again. “Nobody deserves this more than you. You know, I’m trying out for the lead.” Her sunshine smile shone even brighter. 

“I hope so, you’re the best singer in the school.” I replied with a half smile. 

“Aw, thanks. You’re sweet. I’m trying to convince Champ to try out, too. Wouldn’t it be fun if we could play Christine and Raoul together? Then we’d have a stage kiss.” She turned to look over at Champ, who was distracted by spinning the knob on the next locker down. 

“What, oh sure, whatever.” He woke back up. 

“I had no idea you sang, Champ.” I address the man-child with a smile. He was staring at the back of Waverly’s head.

“He has a beautiful voice, when he isn’t singing crass songs.” Waverly joked. 

And just in case I had no idea what she meant, Champ flashed a million dollar smile, wrapped his arms back around Waverly’s waist and said. “There once was a man from Nantucket...” And then he snickered at his own humor.

Nice fucking song, moron. 

“Well, see you tomorrow, Nicole.” She winked at me, squeezed my arm lightly before taking Champ’s hand, and walked off down the hall. I stood there watching her leave, the imprint of her fingers still lingering. I didn’t even say goodbye.

I hated to admit it, but I lived for these moments. Despite my being paralyzingly shy, Waverly was nice to me. She always talked to me when we met up at our lockers, and often left with a small touch of some kind. Some days, when Champ wasn’t with her, she’d give me a quick hug. Her scent would hover just under my nose for an impossibly long time. It made my day. 

I just wished she could see Champ the way I did. 

I made my way out of school to the side parking lot where seniors were allowed to park. The late afternoon sun hit my eyes, nearly blinding me, but felt deliciously warm on my dark blue shirt. That, coupled with the smell of pollen in the air, was the first hint of spring, that the winter might finally be over. I walked over to my beat-up, old Ford F-150. The white paint was chipped in places and rust was starting to show around the rear wheel well. It was my dad’s old truck and my early graduation present. The long truck bed stretched out behind the single cab that had a worn cloth bench seat inside. The interior was warmed from the sun and smelled like WD-40. She was old, but ran like a horse. My dad called her Old Faithful. When I started her up, the engine purred and sounded like freedom. I couldn’t wait to get out of this tired farm town. 

I grabbed my white Stetson that I had left on the passenger seat while at school, and pushed it down over my head. I adjusted my short, brown hair back behind my ears and let it curl up around them. I looked myself over in the rear view mirror and then popped in the Patsy Cline Greatest Hits cassette in what was probably the last working tape player in the known universe. Yeah, that’s how old the truck was. Along with the truck, I inherited my dad’s tape collection which was painfully lame, but housed a few gems like this one. Patsy Cline started by lamenting how she’d loved and lost again; I knew that pain. Only I can’t say I had ever loved, so I guess I was just lost. 

I pulled out of the parking lot and instead of cutting through the town square to get home faster, I decided to enjoy the sunlight filtering in through the windshield and take the long way home through the corn fields.

The tractors were out, preparing the fields for planting. Almost every field was a hive of activity, farmers taking advantage of the spring weather. Set far back from the roads, the red brick or white board farm houses stood like sentinels guarding the fields around them.

As I neared our home, I saw my dad’s tractor out in the field. I waved out of instinct, not sure if he could even see me, and pulled up our long, gravel driveway to park next to my dad’s brand new, cherry red F-150. Dad joked that it was too pretty to beat up and longed for Old Faithful. I cleverly suggested that I could take the new truck and he could keep Old Faithful for himself. I don’t know why, but he laughed his head off at that every time. Wasn’t like it was much of joke.

 

At auditions the next day, I sat a few seats down from Mrs. Mahoney, who was thankfully wearing a sweater, and Mr. McCannon. I was the only stage crew there for the day and really my only job was to turn on a couple stage lights for the tryouts. I’m not sure why either Mrs. Mahoney or Mr. McCannon couldn’t do that, but as bearer of the key, it was my responsibility to operate the house and stage lights. I wasn’t really complaining because it meant that I got to watch everyone’s audition. We had already heard the auditions for the minor characters, and were in the middle of the pool of potential leads. That meant Waverly, and if she was able to convince him, Champ. I can only image what favors were being traded during that negotiation. Actually, I really didn’t want to imagine it. 

I was totally shocked to see Perry take the stage next. He was the only Asian kid in school. He was in my advanced biology class and we were decent friends, both being outsiders at school. He was quiet like me, super smart, and pretty nice. I was shocked to see him at tryouts because I had no idea that he sang. He never took chorus and he wasn’t a part of our past musicals, but there he was trying out for a male lead. I honestly didn’t think there was much more to him other than being a science geek. 

When he started to sing the male vocals for the title song, my jaw hit the floor. He had a stunning tenor voice. His soft features complimented the light quality of his notes, and I, for one, immediately thought of him as Raoul, the rescuer and ultimate love of Christine. I suddenly visualized the climax of the musical, Champ as the Phantom, seething on stage as he was forced to watch Waverly kiss Perry after declaring her eternal love to him. I would pay to see that. Champ wouldn’t even be acting, and it would be a little pay back for being such a dick.

Next up was Champ, and I sat up a little, hoping he’d totally flub it. My inner shadenfreude was doing a happy dance in anticipation. He chose to sing “Music of the Night” for his audition and as the accompanist started to play the piano, I couldn’t hold back my grin.

Please, I thought, please let this be embarrassing, no person should have it all: good looks, beautiful girlfriend, super popular, and a good voice. It would just be unfair. 

Of course it was beautiful. He was a fucking Gaston from “Beauty and the Beast.” I did what I usually do when his good fortune pissed me off. I visualized him as a super-butch woman and kind of fell in love with him, too. I really hated him for it.

Waverly was the last to audition. She walked out to the middle of the stage, her long brown hair falling in soft curls to her breasts, and her smile shining confidently. On stage, with just the couple lights focused on her, she was radiant. She announced that she would be singing “Think of Me.” As the accompanist prepared the music, she looked over at me and her smile grew. She lifted her hand in a small wave. My heart melted, she was always so nice to me. I waved back as I heard a wolf whistle tear out behind me. There, sitting several rows behind me was Champ. He must have snuck in to watch her audition, too. It hit me that Waverly was probably waving at him, not me, and my heart sank. 

Mrs. Mahoney looked behind her. “Champ, you need to leave, the auditions are closed to students.”

“But Nicole gets to watch!” Champ pointed accusingly at me.

“Nicole is head of the stage crew, and as such, she is my assistant. You need to leave.” She folded her arms across her large chest, pressing them together. 

Stop it, don’t go there.

Anyway, she was not a woman to be trifled with and Champ slunk off out of the auditorium, grumbling about how it wasn’t fair. 

I smugly turned around and watched Waverly as she cleared her throat and rolled her neck. I’m not even sure why she was bothering to stretch out and warm up. In my book, she already had the part of Christine, and frankly, I was pretty sure Mrs. Mahoney was thinking the same thing. 

Waverly walked over to the accompanist, she spoke a few soft words to her, and the pianist played a single note.

Then Waverly stepped back onto the middle of the stage as started to sing. She was trying out a cappella. 

“Think of me, think of me fondly, when we’ve said goodbye...” Her voice rose up and fell over the high notes like a stream running smoothly over a stone. It was crystal clear as it lightly played along the melody. My breath grew deeper as I was pulled into the flow of the music. I was jerked awake by Mrs. Mahoney when she cut her off abruptly midway through the song.

“Thank you, Waverly. That was beautiful as always.” Then she turned to discuss something with Mr. McCannon. Waverly stood there waiting for further instructions and I sat watching her in confusion. 

Mrs. Mahoney glanced up at Waverly still standing in the middle of the stage. The accompanist was quietly packing her bag off to the side. “That was enough, darling, you’re dismissed.” Then Mrs. Mahoney looked over at me, “Do you mind turning off all the stage lights when you leave? I’ll take care of the house lights myself.”

“Sure,” I replied, and got up to go, realizing that I was also being dismissed.

 

After locking up the production booth, I saw Waverly waiting in the hallway. I looked behind me, thinking she was waiting for Champ, when Waverly addressed me.

“Do you think she hated it, Nicole?” 

My faced flushed slightly. How could she possibly think that Mrs. Mahoney didn’t like her voice. 

“Ah, no. I think you did an amazing job.” I said.

“Thanks. But why did she cut me off?” I didn’t even get to the hard part. I think she didn’t like it at all.” Waverly looked down at the floor and chewed her bottom lip.

“Oh no, I think she probably heard enough to know you’re definitely getting the part. I know I did.” I laughed lightly.

“You’re so sweet.” She smiled at me, but her eyes were still worried.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” I started to walk down the hall. “You were perfect up there, I’m sure you got the part.” 

“Are you leaving?” She asked me quickly.

“Oh. Yeah. I’ve got a lot of homework to do.” I stopped to watch her.

“I’ll walk out with you.” She picked up her backpack and joined me. “Do you really think I did ok?” 

“Waverly, you were great. You’re always great.” We walked toward the side door leading to the parking lot. “I’m sure you’ll get the part, you were the best Christine.” 

Her expression changed back to her sunshine smile. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely.” I couldn’t help but grin back at her.

“Thanks, Nicole.” She squeezed my arm before opening up the door. 

When we stepped outside, I saw Champ sitting in his car. It was one of the last cars left in the lot, besides my own. He honked at Waverly several times. She gave me that- men! - look again and ran off to hop into his car. I let out a sigh and shook my head as I watched them drive away. She was so much better than him, why would she put up with that piece of crap. 

 

I tossed my backpack in the bed of my truck and winced as the door squeaked open. Again, I grabbed my Stetson and popped in Johnny Cash this time. The dark brown of the newly plowed fields looked like an ocean stretching out for miles. I manually rolled down my window a bit to let the scent of the dirt waft into my truck. That’s something I’d miss in Lincoln, the smell of the dirt, the scent of rain on a corn field in the middle of summer. There’s nothing like it. You can almost taste it. I loved taking the back roads home, driving around the corn fields rather going directly home. It gave me more time to think, and there’s no way to get lost because the fields are almost entirely on a grid. If you’re not sure where you are, come to a crossroad and the numbers will lead you home. 

 

The next day at lunch, Mr. McCannon announced that he had posted the cast list outside the Chorus room. Waverly grabbed my arm as we both walked out of the lunchroom to see it. She was bouncing on her toes in excitement.

“I hope I got Christine.” Her voice bubbled up.

“I’m sure you did. Where’s Champ?” I asked

“He didn’t finish some homework yesterday, so I said I’d see what part he got and let him know.”

I nodded my head and smiled when Waverly left one hand holding on to my elbow as we walked down the hall to the Chorus room. It warmed my whole body to have her walking next to me. 

“Are you going to Chrissy’s party this weekend?” Waverly asked me. Chrissy was another senior and good friend of Waverly’s. I really didn’t know her that well. We ran in completely different circles. I was theater dork and she was a cheerleader. 

“I wasn’t invited.” I said.

“Silly! It’s for seniors, and you’re a senior.” She tugged on my arm. “You should come, I never see you outside of school. This is our last semester, so I won’t take no for an answer.” She beamed at me.

How could I say no to that smile?

“Ok. Fine. I’ll go.” I relented.

“Yay,” she shrieked happily. She was just a ray of fucking sunshine. 

She shrieked again and gave me a quick hug when we got to the chorus room and she saw that she did get the role of Christine. Like there was any doubt. I didn’t mind the hug, though.

To my surprise and her delight, Champ was cast as Raoul, and Perry was listed as the Phantom. I was really shocked, I would have switched the two. But maybe Mrs. Mahoney thought that Champ would be a better fit for the kissing scene since he was dating Waverly anyway. 

So Champ would get to be her love, both on and off the stage. And I would get to watch it every day from the production booth. Fucking yay.

That afternoon, it took none other than Garth Brooks to make me feel better. The sky was grey and it was chilly again, but from my perch in the truck, the smooth plastic of the steering wheel in my hand, and Garth on full blast, I started to forget about Waverly and Champ, or at least Champ, and felt a little more human. When “Rodeo” came on, I imagined myself as the cowboy and Waverly as the woman waiting for her man in dirty jeans and a clean, white Stetson. I pushed my hat a little farther down my brow and pursed my lips in a tough scowl as I cruised by the fields on a extra long ride home.

 

The next week, rehearsals began in earnest. Everyday after school the entire cast was expected to show up and either participate or study from the audience. My stage crew was supposed to start working on the set design with the wood shop teacher, an old geezer named Mr. Holliday. He was a funny guy, mostly because he was unrelentingly weird. He insisted that everyone call him Doc. He had a long mustache that dropped down over his top lip and below his chin on the sides and he mumbled so much it was hard to understand him. The other thing he was known for was wearing his dark brown, cowboy hat everywhere. When I took his shop class as a junior, he said something about it being a safety thing, to keep his long, brown hair from getting tangled in the sanding belt. But I don’t think he ever took it off, like he just walked off the set of one of the old westerns my dad was obsessed with.

The first set we were working on was the lair of the Phantom. My good friend and fellow senior crew member, Jeremy, and I were working on the overall look of the set, when Doc stopped by.

“... bumpier with sandpaper...and so tall...” he held his hand level with his chest, then moved on to supervise a freshman with a jigsaw. We both ignored him and went back to what we were working on.

“I wonder if we could use glitter to make the stalagmites look wet and drippy.” Said Jeremy.

“What is it with you and glitter?” I asked.

“What? How would you suggest we make them look wet?” He asked me.

“How about a high gloss varnish?” I said.

“Oh, ok, we could do that, if you want to be boring. This is the lair of the Phantom, it should be spooky and glorious. I mean, really, he’s living down there. He wants to take Christine to live with him down there. I think that warrants a little glitter.” Said Jeremy.

“Maybe.” I looked over my shoulder to where Champ and Waverly were practicing their love scene together off to the side of the stage.

It became clear, to me at least, that the dynamics between Raoul and Christine were a little off. Raoul was supposed to be sophisticated, charming, and gentle, whereas Champ came across as brutish and dominating. But then he’d start to sing and his fucking beautiful voice would make it all disappear. Waverly leaned into him and placed a gentle kiss to his lips and my heart flipped. God, how I wanted that to be me. Champ broke my reverie when he grabbed Waverly by the waist and twisted her around in a forceful dip and practically sucked her lips off. I shook my head and turned back to Jeremy.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” 

“I said, if we don’t use the glitter in the lair, then we should definitely use it for the snowy outdoor scene when Waverly and Champ kiss. It will make the scene feel more romantic.” Said Jeremy.

I groaned, “Yep, more romantic.” Jeremy giggled at me as I turned to glance back again at Champ and Waverly, but they had walked off somewhere else.

Doc walked by again, “... pillow stuffing... backing and more glue...” he said.

“Sure thing, Doc.” Jeremy called out as the teacher shuffled off, lifting his hat in acknowledgment.

 

Perry turned out to be a great Phantom. He was a mystery as a new performer on the stage, and that played directly into his role as the semi-hidden, master of music in the show.

I teased Perry during biology that he should start wearing the white, half mask around school to promote the musical. 

“I could lurk around corners and make spooky announcements over the PA system, calling ‘Christiiiiiine.’” He laughed with me. 

“That would be perfect!” I said. “I had no idea that you could sing so well.” 

“I never thought much about it. My parents always pushed me to get good grades, so I never had much time. But now I’m a senior and I figured this was my last chance to try out performing. I’m already in college, so my parents can’t complain. Carpe Diem, right?” He explained.

“That’s right. I’m glad you tried out. You have a great voice. I hope your parents enjoy the show.” I said.

“They think this is stupid, actually. But I’m really enjoying it.” He said. “I finally feel like I’m a part of something bigger at school, that isn’t just the science fair.”

 

At lunch the next day, Perry, Jeremy and I sat at a large round table in the middle of the cafeteria. Since the start of the show, Perry began eating with Jeremy and I. Even Waverly and Champ occasionally joined us at our table. I picked at my ham and gravy, not really that interested in eating it, and waited to see if the couple would sit with us again. Waverly walked toward us carrying her food tray. I couldn’t help the smile that broke out when she chose to sit next to me. Of course Champ followed close behind with his boyishly cute grin and perfect fucking hair and sat on her other side. 

“So I was thinking about the plot for ‘Phantom’, and I was wondering: do you think Christine really loved the phantom at the end or is she just pretending to try and save both Raoul and herself?” asked Perry. “Because if she’s declared her love for Raoul, why would she say she loves the phantom even after he’s kidnapped her and has Raoul trapped?”

“I think she sees the good in him and she feels bad that nobody, not even his own mother, loved him. All because of a facial deformity. I think she sees the injustice of that and sympathizes with him.” Said Waverly.

“But then, isn’t that just pity, not real love.” Asked Jeremy.

“I think you can have sympathy and love. It’s not just a pity case.” Said Waverly.

“I think it’s gross and I’m glad she ends up with Raoul.” Said Champ hugging Waverly into his side. “That’s the only ending that makes any sense. What kind of play would it be if she ends up trapped in the bottom of the theater with the phantom?”

“I think the love the phantom feels is deeper, more real, because he doesn’t have anyone else. He doesn’t have someone to show him love and yet he writes beautiful songs for her and teaches her how to be the best singer.” I chimed in. “For Raoul, it’s almost too easy. It’s assumed that he’ll win, which he does, but I think it’s more interesting to think that the phantom could win Christine. Like she might actually want to be with the phantom. There’s this little bit of hope for him.”

“Aw, that’s sweet.” Said Waverly smiling at me. “How romantic, being swept off my feet by beautiful music.” She dramatically lifted her arm to her forehead and pretended to swoon.

“Baby, I could sing you a song to make you weak.” Joked Champ, pressing a kiss into her cheek.

Waverly brushed off the advance. Just then, Chrissy ran up to Waverly and grabbed her arm. She leaned over to speak into her ear and her long blond hair fell down around her cheeks. 

“Hey, do you think that your sister can get us a keg for the party on Saturday? My cousin is going to be out of town.” Despite being a whisper, Chrissy’s voice carried around the table.

“I can ask, but she’s working at the rodeo in Kearney right now. I’m sure she’ll be back this weekend, though.”

“Thanks, you’re the best. Let me know as soon as you talk to her.” Said Chrissy.

“No problem.” Waverly smiled up at Chrissy and gave her a one arm hug. Her smile was turned on us as Chrissy walked away. “Sorry about that.” She quickly added. We all knew about her older sister, Wynonna. She was something of a loose cannon, but was known to be good for an alcohol run.

“Plus,” Perry jumped back into our original conversation, “Don’t you all think that it’s a little anticlimactic that the phantom just disappears at the end of the show. Like, hey I’m hiding down here for years and now after everything that’s happened in the show I’m just going to go back to hiding and it’s all good. Sorry I bothered you all.” Said Perry.

“Well, in the book, the phantom dies of a broken heart in the end.” Said Waverly.

We all turned to look at her, quizzically.

“What, so I read the book? I wanted to be prepared for tryouts.” She added.

“Nerd.” Said Champ. “I didn’t even read the whole script.” Waverly elbowed him in the side lightly.

“I didn’t even know it was a book. I thought Andrew Lloyd Weber wrote it?” Asked Jeremy.

“That’s just the musical version. The book is much more complicated than the musical.” Said Waverly.

“Whatever,” said Champ, getting up from the table and grabbing both his and Waverly’s tray. “I have to run.” He leaned over and kissed Waverly sweetly on the lips. 

Now that would have been a good stage kiss. Short, sweet, and to the point. 

Then he added, “Meet me at my locker before rehearsal, I want to practice our kissing scene before we head over.” He winked at Waverly. 

And then he ruined it. 

 

Saturday night, I drove over to Chrissy’s house. I was surprised that her father would allow her to host a party since he was the sheriff. But I figured it was like being the preacher’s kid, being the child of a police officer must be restrictive, making the bad girl persona even more appealing. That and he clearly wasn’t home or he’d have to raid is own house. 

There were cars parked all over the long, grassy lawn leading back to the two-story, red brick farmhouse. I found a spot for my truck in a line with three other Fords, all of them newer and bulkier than mine. I squeaked open my driver’s side door and could immediately hear the music pouring from the house. It didn’t look like there were any lights on, but the front door stood wide open. I walked in the front door and could already smell the pot and cigarette smoke. 

Where the hell was the sheriff? I thought. Never mind, I knew I was too much of a goody-two-shoes. Time to let loose and be the senior the world expected me to be. Only I don’t drink, or smoke, and will apparently never have sex. 

The living room was dark; the music pumped through the space. There were kids everywhere. I meandered my way back to the only room that appeared to be well lighted, the kitchen. I was handed a red solo cup by a beefy football player who had never once said hi to me his entire life.

“Keg’s over there.” He pointed at the large metal barrel sitting on the floor next to the kitchen sink. On the counter next to the sink were a couple bottles of vodka and whiskey with two liters of coke and orange juice. I filled my cup with water instead. 

I pushed my way deeper into the house. So far no Waverly, and no people I’d really want to hang out with, for that matter. I saw a door leading to the basement and I could hear the country music blasting down there. This was the older, classic stuff. Shania Twain was singing about being unimpressed by men. That seemed more my style, so I made my way down the dark stairs to the basement.

The basement was finished and clearly the entertainment room. There was a large TV hanging over a huge entertainment center filled with speakers and electronics. The lights from all the digital equipment cast an eerie glow about the room. In the center of the room was a large L shaped couch, half of which was taken up by bodies making out with other bodies. I slumped into the end of the free part of the couch and looked around the room. 

In the back, by the entertainment center was Waverly. And Champ. And they were kissing, of course. When were they not? But not just kissing, he was all over her, kissing. His hands were running up and down her back, grabbing her, pulling her into him. I tried to look away. I really wanted to look away. I swear I didn’t want to watch Champ practically dry hump the most beautiful girl in school. But there it was, right on display for me. 

I felt like I was trapped in a made for TV movie: Welcome young, gay teen, this is what you’ll always want. And this is what you’ll never have. 

Waverly’s hands roamed from the side of Champ’s head to wrap around his meaty neck. She pulled him in closer, kissed him harder. She wasn’t pushing him away, instead her body bent to meet his. I shook my head, really wishing I could look away. Really wishing I wasn’t imagining myself as Champ right then. 

Just then I felt the cushion on the couch dip down next to me. I jumped slightly, and quickly looked away from Champ and Waverly to see Jeremy sitting next to me on the couch. 

Jeremy was also holding a red solo cup, but I noticed his was still empty. “Aren’t they too much?” He asked.

“Who?” 

“Champ and Waverly, the world’s cutest couple.” He said, wistfully.

“Yeah,” I groaned. “Super cute, while sucking face.”

“Oh come on, I see you watching them all the time. You can’t take your eyes off of them at rehearsal.” Jeremy said.

“I do NOT watch them all the time!” I shot back, suddenly worried that I was being too obvious. I really couldn’t stop watching them. Well, Waverly.

“You totally watch them. And if I didn’t think your puppy-love was so adorable, I’d be kicking you out of it all the time.” He laughed at me.

“I am so not in love with Champ.” I replied.

“I’m not talking about Champ.” His words hit me hard. I went into full-on gay panic and completely froze. I think even my heart stopped beating.

Jeremy leaned in really close to me and I could feel his breath on my ear. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. And for the record, I don’t think anyone else has noticed.” He sat back and looked out across the room back at Waverly and Champ. 

He had her pressed up against the wall. I cringed as my stomach flipped. Why did I have to want that so fucking much?

Jeremy leaned in a second time. “To be completely honest, I like to watch them, too. But not for her.” He admitted. I turned to face him and he smiled back at me easily. My mouth fell open. Jeremy pointed at his temple. “Gaydar.” He said quickly. “I figured you out pretty quickly. Why do you think I like hanging out with you so much. We’re like a team. Team Lay Low Until College.”

I shook my head and laughed, still speechless.

“Jesus, that man is beautiful.” Jeremy whispered, looking again at Champ. 

“Yeah, but he’s an ass.” I said.

“But what an ass! I’d tape his mouth shut and kiss every stupid inch of him.” Jeremy snickered.

“Gross, dude!” 

“What, like you weren’t just thinking the same thing about Waverly.”

I raised my eyebrows and nodded in agreement, well, everything but taping her mouth shut. It felt so freeing to be able to joke with someone about it.

We both sighed and watched the other couple. Just then, Champ resurfaced from a kiss, happened to look up in our direction, and caught us watching them. I blushed hard, quickly looking away. Jeremy jumped and turned to face me on the couch like we were deep in conversation. 

“So! Tell me how you thought Friday’s rehearsal went.” He launched into a conversation with me.

I could feel the heat of embarrassment creep down my neck. “I uh, I mean, great. We had a great rehearsal.” I tried to play along. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Champ pulling Waverly up to us.

“Hey pervert, quit watching us make out.” Champ was directing this at me. “I see you watching us all the time. I know you want it.” He grabbed Waverly by the hips and dragged her in front of him. “But you’re never gonna get this. So eyes off, dyke.” Champ sneered at me.

Two things happened simultaneously. I rose from the couch to get in Champ’s face and Waverly yelled at him. My fists were balled at my side.

Then Jeremy jumped up. “Hey, don’t talk to my girlfriend like that.” He yelled.

Champ and I both looked at Jeremy like- what the hell...

“You heard me, don’t talk to my girlfriend like that.” Jeremy repeated himself. Then both Waverly and Champ looked at me, stunned.

“Yeah. Jeremy and I are dating, so why would I care about watching you two?” I said. I hoped they would buy it.

“All I know is, you keep looking at her tits like you’re hungry, they’re mine.” And Champ reached around from behind Waverly and grabbed her breasts firmly in his big hands. 

“Champ!” Waverly yelled at him. “Stop!” And she elbowed him in the side. He doubled over and let go of Waverly, but not without laughing at me first. 

I grabbed Jeremy’s hand and started to walk away. “Come on sweetie, let’s get out of here. This party is lame anyway.” And I practically dragged Jeremy up the stairs behind me. 

When we got back to the kitchen, I turned to Jeremy. “Thanks for that, back there.” I gestured back, looked at the stairs, and saw Waverly climbing up. “Oh God, let’s go.” I grabbed his shoulder and pulled him behind me. 

Just as we were walking out the front door, I heard Waverly calling to me.

“Geez, Nicole, slow down for a second. I’ve had too much to drink to chase you.” She said as she caught up to us. She placed her hand on my shoulder to brace herself and steady her breathing. I noticed that Champ wasn’t behind her anymore.

She quickly caught her breath and continued. “You’re really fast when you want to be.” She looked up at me with her cute apologetic look. “I’m so sorry for what Champ said to you. That was not fair and really bad.” She gave me a worried look.

“You shouldn’t have to apologize for him. He’s an ass. He can do his own apologizing.” I said. 

“Yeah, that’ll be the day.” Waverly said.

“Where is he anyway?” I asked, looking back into the house, in case he decided to make an appearance. 

“I told him that wasn’t cool and to fuck off.” She chuckled to herself.

“Good for you.” I looked over at Jeremy who was waiting for me. “So Waverly, we’re leaving.” I pointed at Jeremy.

“I didn’t know you two were dating!” Waverly squeezed my arm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Oh, you know. It’s a pretty recent thing, we’re still figuring out who we want to tell.” I glanced over at Jeremy with panic in my eyes.

“Yeah, we didn’t want to broadcast it. You know, keep it on the down low.” He wiggled his hands down below his waist. 

“Aw, you guys are so sweet. I love that you’re together.” Waverly hugged my arm. What the hell kind of torture was this? 

“Look, we’re heading out...” I started to say.

“Can I come with you? Champ is being an ass. I don’t want to go home with him. He’ll just want to sleep with me and I don’t want that right now.”

“I don’t blame you,” I said under my breath.

“What?” Waverly looked up at me.

I looked over at Jeremy. “What do you think, sweetie?” I said.

“I’m going to head home, I’m getting tired. Why don’t you two hang out, instead.” He said, then winked at me and walked off toward his car.

My stomach flipped as I felt Waverly squeeze my arm tighter and I said a silent thank you to Jeremy for being such an awesome wingman.

“Aren’t you going to kiss him goodbye?” Asked Waverly. Oh shit.

Jeremy winced a little and then walked over to kiss my cheek lightly. 

“Come on, Jer. You can do better than that. You have a totally hot,” Waverly snorted at her own drunk joke, “Haught girlfriend.” I felt her hands let go of my arm and wrap around my waist instead. This was too much. “Give the woman a real kiss.” Waverly hugged me from the side.

Jeremy leaned in and we kissed, albeit very short and dry, but a real kiss. I was surprised by how soft his lips felt and his cologne wasn’t terrible. Not my thing, but not bad if we’re pretending. 

“AWWW, so cute. I love you two. You’re my favorite couple now. I totally ship you.” Waverly called out, hugging me tighter.

I placed my arm around her back to steady her, since I could feel her start to sway. 

“I should get you home,” I looked down at Waverly. “I’ll see you later, Sweetie.” I winked at Jeremy, and he smiled back. I hoped Waverly was too drunk to remember any of this and we would just go back to the way things were the next day.

I led Waverly back to my truck and helped her climb in, which wasn’t easy for her since she was drunk and wearing a tight skirt. I placed my hands on her waist to help lift her up into the cab of the truck. 

“I love the smell of your truck.” Waverly said longingly.

“Really? We had a can of WD-40 leak all over the floor in here. That’s probably what you smell.” I laughed

“I know, I love it. It reminds me of my dad.” She said. That reminded me of the story I heard about her dad being killed in a hit and run several years ago. 

“I’m glad you like it.” I said, not knowing what else to say. Waverly and I were never close enough friends that she told me about that night, but everyone in school knew the story anyway. Welcome to living in a small town. Everyone knows your business. Which was why I intended to keep my business as private as possible. 

I climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. Waverly slid over and leaned in against me. “I don’t want to go home. Can we go hang out somewhere for a while?” Waverly asked.

“Sure,” my mind racing ahead of me. “Where do you want to go?” I asked.

“Anywhere. Where do you like to hang out?” She asked.

I thought back to fun times I’d had with friends late at night, and one memory stood out to me. In sixth grade, my former best friend, Stephanie, and I used to have the best time sneaking into the playground of our elementary school at night and swinging on the swings there. We used to laugh and talk about all the kids in our class. Even though I wasn’t really friends with her anymore (she became obsessed with boys and I became, well, not) I still loved those nights on the playground with her.

“What would you think about sneaking into a playground?” I asked.

Waverly sat up and gave me the most brilliant smile ever. “That sounds like fun.”

 

We drove over to my old elementary school, and I parked a block from the school. I helped Waverly down and we “snuck” on to the playground. 

The spring night was cool; I had on a light jacket over my flannel shirt. Waverly was in a short sleeved sweater shirt and quickly started to shiver. I took off my jacket and handed it to her. I was afraid that if she got too cold, we’d have to call the night short. And I didn’t want to miss out on the first time hanging out with Waverly on my own.

“Thank you.” She said as she slipped her arms into my jacket. It was too long for her, so she rolled up the sleeves a couple times and zippered up the front. “So much better.”

“Good. The swings are over here.” I said, pointing at the far side of the playground. “Do you want to swing?” I asked.

“I’m not sure. Too much motion right now may not be a good thing. Too much whiskey.” She said taking my hand to help her walk. “Why aren’t YOU drunk right now?”

“Um, I don’t drink. I was drinking water at the party.” I admitted.

“Why not, you don’t like losing control a little?” She dropped my hand and instead wrapped her hands around my arm, squeezing it.

“Not really.” I said.

“That’s something I’d like to see. Nicole Haught let loose. Come on, you’re a senior now, we’re almost done, outta here. You gotta live a little.” She held my arm tight against her.

“Then who would drive you to playgrounds in the middle of the night?” I answered.

“Hmm. That’s true. This is pretty cool, back here.” We stepped up to the swing set and each sat down on a swing. I lightly rocked mine back and forth.

“It’s a little romantic, don’t you think?” Waverly looked around the dark, deserted playground. “A little spooky and kinda romantic. Like I should be cuddling next to Champ right now.”

“You think Champ would find this romantic?” I asked. I tried to hide the hurt in my voice. He had just grabbed her, showed her exactly how big of an ass he was, and she’s thinking about him romancing her on MY playground. 

“Oh geez, Champ thinks the backseat in a school bus is romantic. Seriously, have you ever made out back there. You bounce around like crazy. Least sexy place, ever.”

“No, I can’t say that I’ve tried that.” I mumbled.

“Where do you and Jeremy go?”

“What?” I panicked.

“You know, where do you two go to make out?”

“Um, well...” I quickly tried to wrack my brain for an appropriate answer. “Nowhere, really. We haven’t done much yet. We just started dating.” Yeah, like a few minutes ago. 

“Aw, that’s sweet that he’s willing to wait for you.” She smiled wistfully at me.

“He’s willing to wait for me? Aren’t you assuming a lot?” I teased back.

“Oh come on. He’s a boy. Man. Sorry.” She winced as she corrected herself.

“Yeah, well, we just haven’t gotten to that point in our relationship, I guess. I like that we don’t have to do something if we’re not ready.” I was making this up as I went, and quickly cataloging all the things I needed to tell Jeremy tomorrow to keep up our little charade. “I can’t say the same thing for Champ.” I changed the subject.

“Champ’s just a little handsy at times.”

“Champ’s a little bit of a dick at times.” I said.

Waverly laughed. “He isn’t a little bit of dick, he’s pretty much entirely a dick. That’s the only thing he thinks with.” 

“Then why are you dating him?” I asked, genuinely confused.

“Because he asked. Nobody else has. After Wynonna, it’s not like people are lining up to date an Earp.” She rocked a little on her swing. “And while he may only think with his dick, he at least knows what he’s doing with it.” She chuckled to herself.

Oh for the love of God, now I’ll never get that image out of my head. “I really don’t want to hear that.” I groaned.

“Sorry.” She rocked back and forth on the swing. “So, you don’t drink. You’re not having sex. What do you do for fun besides taking drunk girls to playgrounds in the middle of the night?”

“For the record, I don’t take drunk girls to playgrounds, I only take pretty girls.” I teased. Where the hell did that come from? 

Waverly smiled at me with her huge, sunshine smile and the warmth in my chest told me it was worth it. Plus, hopefully she wouldn’t remember it in the morning. 

I decided to push a little more. “You’re the prettiest girl in our class. I’m sure if you dumped Champ, there’d be a long line of people wanting to date you.”

“I doubt it. God, I feel like such a freak. And everyone knows my story.” She said.

How could she feel like a freak. She was the nicest, cutest, smartest person in the world. Now I really was a freak, chasing after a straight girl, flirting with her on a playground late at night. What the hell did I think I was doing? Who was I kidding?

“You’re not a freak. I feel like the freak.” I said softly, not sure I wanted to say that out loud.

“Nicole! How can you possibly think you’re a freak. You are such a good person. You are always so kind...”

Not in my head, I thought.

“You’re so thoughtful.” She stood up and walked over to stand in front of me. I opened my legs so that my knees wouldn’t collide with hers as I rocked on the swing and she easily stepped in between them to get closer. My breath caught in my throat as she stepped up so close to me, then put her hands on my shoulders. “You are the nicest person in our class. I know you’re a little quiet, but I think that’s sweet.” She stood there, looking me in the eyes and resting her hands on my shoulders. 

God, I wanted to die, or kiss her. But mostly just die. I laughed and looked down at the ground trying to break the tension. She reached out and lifted my chin so that I had to look at her again.

God, please, if you’re up there? Instant death might be helpful right now. I tried to swallow and breath. But I found I couldn’t do either.

“Nicole, You are not a freak. Ok?” She looked so serious. She was really trying to convince me. I nodded my head slightly in her palm, but thought- Whatever you say, Waverly. 

“Are you ready to head home?” I croaked out. That broke the spell.

“Oh no. I can’t go home. My aunt and uncle will kill me if I show up drunk. They’ll think I’m just as bad as Wynonna.” She groaned and turned away from me. “I was supposed to spend the night with Champ. Well, I’m really supposed to be spending the night with Chrissy, that’s what I told them. Now where can I go?” She sat back down heavily on the swing next to me.

“Well, I could take you back to Chrissy’s. Or if you want, you can come home with me and sleep there. I have a big enough bed for both of us.” 

Brain to heart: What the hell are you doing?

Heart to brain: Just shut up and let’s see where this is going.

“Would you really let me sleep at your place? You won’t get in trouble or anything?” Waverly asked.

“Of course you can. It’s no problem.” I quickly replied.

Heart to brain: BOOM! Take that stupid brain.

“Thanks, you’re the best.” Said Waverly as we both stood to walk back to my truck. I held out my arm to her again, and she quickly took it in her hand and hugged it. “I really like you.” She whispered into my shoulder.

Brain to heart: Now would be a good time to start beating again, Mr. Smug-ass.

 

I brought Waverly home with me. She held my arm as she stumbled up my front steps. I needed to place my hand on her waist to guide her up the stairs to my bedroom where she collapsed onto my bed.

I knew she needed to drink some water and take a couple Tylenol before falling asleep. She curled onto my bed, her hair splayed out over my pillow. I walked into my bathroom to get the drink and medication.

“Waverly” I pulled at her arm when I walked back into my bedroom. She shrugged away. “Waverly, sit up for me. Just for a second. I need you to take a drink.”

She tossed her head back and forth on my pillow. She was adorable. 

“Waverly,” I leaned over and spoke softly into her ear, “Will you sit up for me.”

Waverly rolled over and started to sit. I was encouraged by this development. She could still hear me, understand me. 

“Waverly, sit up and drink for me.” I asked her.

“Ok, ok.” And she shifted around and sat up. I held out the glass for her. She drank like a child being forced to by a parent. I smiled at her. I wanted to take her into my arms. 

When she drank her water and swallowed the medicine, I helped her slip off her shoes, tights, and skirt. She still wore her sweater, bra and underwear. She slipped under my covers and stretched out around the silky sheets. I quickly changed into my pajamas and brushed my teeth in my bathroom. 

When I returned to the bed, Waverly was stretched out across the whole thing. If she wasn’t so cute, I would have been annoyed. As it was, when I pulled back the covers and slid in next to her, she adjusted and made room for me. 

She rolled onto her stomach and wiggled her back at me. “Will you rub my back?” She asked, sleepily. 

I reached over and scratched her back. I could feel the ridge of muscle running down the middle. She moaned as I ran my fingers up and down.

“That feels nice.” She spoke into my pillow. “Under.”

Her fingers picked up the bottom hem of her sweater and lifted it over her shoulders. 

My fingertips made contact with the smooth skin along her back. I was lost in the long, soft valley of her spine. “Mmm” She hummed.

When I paused my hand, she wiggled her back again, asking for more. 

I curled up next to her, my head just behind hers, I could smell her shampoo and her hair ticked my nose. 

I ran my hand all the way down one side of her back and then up the other. I felt goosebumps following my fingers, and she hummed again.

I wanted to reach out with my lips and press them to her curve where neck turns to shoulder, but I didn’t want to break Waverly out of her unexpected permission. 

I traced a few large circles around her shoulders. She shivered under my fingers. 

“Unhook my bra.” She mumbled into the pillow. I wasn’t sure if I heard her correctly.

Then her slender fingers sought out the clasp at the middle of her back. I placed my fingers there and asked if this was what she wanted. Her head nodded deeper within the pillow. I felt the first clasp pop open and I was lost in the idea that she was asking me to undress her. 

The second clasp popped and I held my breath as the ends of her bra were pulled away revealing the complete, creamy expanse of perfect skin. She didn’t even have a single freckle. How was that possible?

She pulled the straps down over her shoulders and the bra curled lifeless at her side. Her back wiggled again and broke me out of my trance. Again, I started to run my fingers, now with the edge of my nails, lightly scraping down the full length of her back. This time she arched her back into my touch.

“Ah, that feels so good.” Her muffled voice curled up around her head. I continued to gently scratch her back. I didn’t want to blemish her skin with my nail marks, but she kept asking, kept stretching out to meet my fingers. 

Then she rolled slightly on her side to look at me. The curve of her breast rose like a mesmerizing moon out of the side of her bra.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me.” She spoke, the edge of her eye watching me. 

“Of course.” I said back, worried. Of course I’ll take care of you. I’ll always take care of you- I wanted to add.

“You are so nice. And Champ IS such an ass.” Then she drunkenly giggled. “I should be dating you.” 

I swallowed down my agreement. She was half naked and in my bed, that seemed enough, more than I ever hoped for. 

“I love the way you’re touching my back. It’s like you’re reading my mind and touching me exactly how I want.”

“I’m glad” was all I trusted myself to say in response. 

She rolled slightly more, a hair’s breadth from revealing the edge of her nipple. I hurt with want. The pain of desire burst up within me and my heart begged, pleaded, urged her to roll just a little more, as my eyes fought to stay focused on hers.

She collapsed back down onto my bed and the spell was broken, the beautiful edge of the moon vanished from view. “Don’t stop.” Her soft words washed up on the shore of my mind, and I realized that my hand was frozen in the middle of her back. I was paralyzed by her beauty. 

I shook my head, closed my eyes, and let my fingers explore her back until I could hear the soft, even breaths that told me she was asleep. I gently pulled her shirt back down, covering her up. I owed her that. I wasn’t Champ.

I brought the covers up to her neck and placed my hand on her back over the blanket. She was next to me, the most beautiful woman was next to me in my bed. My smile wiped clean all the anguish that came before. Maybe I could earn her, as Champ couldn’t. I would woo her, as Champ failed.


	2. Act II

Act II:

I awoke early the next morning with Waverly pressed against my back. I felt her fingertips dig into my t-shirt, her face nosing through my hair. Every nerve in my body was instantly on high alert. I assumed she was still asleep, otherwise why would she be snuggling up to me. I closed my eyes and begged my body to stay as still as possible. I was afraid to even breathe too deeply for fear of waking her up. Her touch was intoxicating. I tried to imagine what she looked like right then, pressed up behind me, but it was too much. I wanted it too much to allow myself to see it.

Then her grip loosened and her hand crawled around my waist, over the curve of my hipbone, and up to hold my stomach. 

My lungs fought desperately for air as I tried to keep my breath soft and even. I heard her moan quietly, almost a purr, and then a whisper, just audible with her mouth so close to my ear, “you smell so good.”

The shock of her words stiffened me, I tried to play it off as my waking up. I had no idea if she was awake or asleep, if she was whispering or dreaming into my neck. 

Her hand jumped as I stretched, paused an infinitely long few seconds, and then she stretched, yawned, and pulled her arm back. 

“Oh my God, Nicole. I’m so sorry, I was asleep and thought you were Champ.” She said, rolling away from me.

Her words crushed me, not just because it meant she was thinking about her boyfriend, but because this was what he got to experience on a regular basis. Lucky bastard. Lucky ass piece of shit bastard. I cut off my train of thought before I got lost in the wide world of expletives. 

“That’s ok,” I lied, “ I thought you were Jeremy.” I was in CYA mode.

“Oh.” She paused. “Sure, of course.” Waverly said flatly. 

Maybe she didn’t remember last night. 

“How are you feeling?” I asked. I rolled over to look at her. I noticed her bra lying at the end of my bed, so some time in the night she must have taken it off. Her hair was disheveled and her makeup from last night stained the skin around her eyes. Still she was beautiful.

“Ok, I feel a lot better than I should.” She sat up and ran her hands back through her hair.

“I had you drink some water before going to bed.” I tossed out, and placed my hands behind my head.

“You did? Thank you. Everything is a little hazy after we left the party.” She lay back with her head resting on my arm. “So, you ARE dating Jeremy.” She stated, lightly.

I groaned and tried to roll over so I could hide my rolling eyes. She placed her hand firmly on my stomach and held me in place. 

“I didn’t imagine it.” Waverly’s smile grew so wide, I couldn’t help but smile back. 

She smacked my stomach lightly. “When did this happen?”

“Honestly, yesterday.” I wasn’t sure I was up for weaving a whole tale of lies. “Last night.”

“Oh, hey, I’m really sorry about what Champ said to you. He can be so possessive. And jealous. God, if someone even looks at me, he feels like he needs to beat the crap out of them.”

“Why would he be jealous of me?” I asked.

“Well, I’m here with you, aren’t I. Not him.” She pulled her hand off of my stomach and curled up at my side.

Good enough for me.

 

After getting up, I quickly got dressed and told Waverly I’d be down in the living room waiting for her. I shuffled through a pile of magazines on our coffee table trying to keep myself busy as I waited for her. I looked around the room to make sure there was nothing too messy. With it just being Dad and I, sometimes our house could turn into a bit of a bachelor pad. Neither of us were overly concerned about trying to make the place pretty. At least we were both very simple in our decorating tastes and the room wasn’t cluttered with a bunch of junk and knick-knacks. 

Waverly came down stairs looking newly refreshed. You couldn’t tell she was hungover at all. I was too busy trying not to stare to be mad at her good fortune.

“You ready to go?” I asked.

“Yep.” She hopped off the last step and smiled at me.

“Truck’s through here.” I said, pointing back at the kitchen. 

I led Waverly through the kitchen and out the back door to my truck. This time, she didn’t need any help getting into the cab. I slid into the driver’s side and started the engine. I let it idle for a second to warm her up, and Waverly ran a hand over the sun-faded dash.

“This is a really cool, old truck.” She said.

“Thanks. It was my dad’s forever. He gave it to me so I wouldn’t have to ride the school bus for my senior year.” I said.

“That’s really sweet.” She reached down and picked up the small shoebox of cassettes I kept on the floor of the cab. “No way, your truck has a cassette player?” She looked at me excited.

I nodded and smirked. Who knew cassettes were chick magnets. 

“Can I play one?” She asked, thumbing through the albums. 

“Sure.” I smiled at her, propping one hand up behind Waverly’s head to look out the rear window. I turned the truck around in the driveway and headed down the road. 

Waverly started the Garth Brooks album. 

“I wish I had a car. But I guess I have Champ, he’s good about driving me around.” Waverly said.

“You know, you really deserve better than Champ. If the only reason you’re dating him is because he has a car, I could pick you up and drop you off from school.” I offered. 

“That’s not the only reason I’m dating him. He can be sweet, too. Usually, that’s when we’re by ourselves, though, so no one sees it.”

I nodded my head silently, but I was pretty sure I knew exactly why Champ was so sweet when they were alone together. Doesn’t take a stretch of the imagination to see through his intent.

We sat in a semi-comfortable silence as I drove her home. I wanted to keep pressing the point about Champ, but I didn’t want to piss her off. 

“You know, I think Aunt Gus still has some of her old cassettes, I should see if I can borrow them... for next time we go cruising in your truck.” She said, flipping through the box of my dad’s cassettes. 

“Yeah, that’d be fun.” I said, keeping my eyes on the road. Don’t look too eager, bonehead, I thought, as I gripped the wheel tighter.

I accidentally hit a dip in the road and we both bounced up on the seat. Waverly giggled next to me. 

“It’s like we’re in the back of the school bus.” She laughed. 

Too bad we’re not making out, I thought. “Good thing we’re not making out.” I said. Waverly looked at me like I had squid in my hair.

“Sorry, you made a joke last night about making out in the back of a school bus. I guess you don’t remember.” I said.

“Geez, I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t do anything too embarrassing.” She looked sheepish.

“No, you were fine. You’re a cute drunk.” I said.

Waverly buried her head in her palms and a half smile grew up across my face as I looked back out at the road.

I pulled up on the street next to her house and flashed her a quick smile as she thanked me again for taking care of her last night. She slipped out of the truck and I watched her walk up to her house and disappear inside.

 

After dropping off Waverly, I looked at my watch, decided it wasn’t too early, and picked up my phone to dial Jeremy. We needed to start planning out our relationship for school tomorrow. 

“Hey Jer. It’s me. What have you got going on today?” I asked after he picked up.

“Not much, a little homework, but did you hear about the party?” He quickly asked.

“No, what happened?”

“It got busted. Apparently a neighbor called it in. Sheriff Nedley had to drive all the way from Omaha to get back and sort everything out. I am so glad we left when we did. I think half of the senior class was busted for underage drinking. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it sooner.”

“I was with Waverly last night.”

“What! You mean like WITH her, with her?” He shouted.

“No! We were hanging out and it got late, so she crashed at my place.” I said.

“NICE!” He added.

“Shut up. Nothing happened.” I paused and huffed. “Oh that reminds me, we need to talk about our relationship. I had to make up some stuff when Waverly was asking questions. Do you want to come over?” I asked.

“Why don’t you come over here. It’s just me and Mom right now. Plus, she’s making curry.” He practically sang this last bit.

Oh man, Mrs. Chetri’s curry was amazing. My mouth started watering just thinking about it.

“She wouldn’t mind?” I asked.

“NO! Come on, she loves you. And I think she’d be the first person to sign up for the Chetnic fan club. Can we tell her we’re dating, too? Assuage some of her worries?”

“Chetnic?” I asked.

“You know, like a ship name.” He clarified.

“You’ve been thinking up a ship name for us?” 

“Of course, and if you get together with Waverly, you two could be Wayhaught.” He snorted. “Get it, Waverly and Haught are way hot.” 

“Yeah,” chuckled at him, “I get it. Not like that’s ever going to happen, though.” 

Jeremy Chetri, I thought, Nicole Haught. I started to play around with combinations. Jercole. Jerhaught. Haughtchet. Haughtri.

“Hey, what about Haughtri as a ship name?” I suggested.

“Naw, I like Chetnic, it sounds like Sputnik. Space-agey and mysterious.”

“And soviet?” I added.

“I’m going with Chetnic. Oh, this is so cool. I’ve never had a ship name before.” I heard him sigh heavily. 

“Ok, Chetnic, I’m coming over, do you need anything?” I asked.

“Just your gorgeous self.” He said.

“What?” I looked at my phone horrified.

“Sorry, I was just trying it out. You know, for our relationship. God, my Mom’s going to love this.”

“See you in a bit.” I said.

“See you, sweetie.” He laughed out loud.

“Stop it.” I said, before hanging up.

 

When I arrived at his home, Jeremy was waiting for me on the front patio of his ranch style home. He was already walking toward me before I even opened my truck’s door.

“Ok, so in the interest of full disclosure, I may have already told my mom we’re dating.” He was holding up his hands.

“May have?” I asked.

“Ok, so definitely have and now she’s insisting that you stay for lunch.” He looked around his yard wincing, as he struggled to put together his thoughts.

“Spit it out, Jer.” I said.

“Ok, so she called my dad and they both want to meet you.” He looked at me with an apologetic expression.

“But I’ve already met them both?” I asked, confused.

“Yeah, but not as my girlfriend. This is kind of a big deal. So we need to plan this out, ASAP.”

I groaned and rolled my eyes. “So how are we going to handle this?”

“Alright, the way I see it, this is perfect. We pretend to be in a relationship for the last couple months of school then break up this summer before leaving for college. No one is the wiser and we’re both covered. And I don’t need to stress over who to invite to prom.”

“Jeremy, I thought we were going to prom together anyways.”

“Yeah, but now people aren’t going to be asking me if it just as friends?” He said.

“People were asking you about us?”

“Well, Perry was asking.”

“Really, what did he ask?” I wondered.

“Are we going to prom as friends.” 

I shot him a pointed look. “But why would he care?” I asked.

“I don’t know, maybe he wanted to ask you himself.”

The thought shook me a moment. “Why would he want to do that?”

“Oh please, you’re totally cute and you’re nice and not an asshole like so many of the girls in our class. And you might hide it with your clothes, but you’ve got a totally smokin’ body.”

“You think I’ve got a smokin’ body?” I pressed.

“Please, Nicole. Give me some credit. I’m gay, not blind.” 

A blush crept up my face, “Regardless, we have a relationship to map out.” I grabbed his arm and walked him into his house.

Mrs. Chetri jumped out of the kitchen to stop us before we could make it down the hall to his bedroom. She eyed my hand on Jeremy’s arm and gave us a wide smile. 

“Nicole, I really hope you can stay. I’m making curry; I know you like it.” She winked at me.

“I love it.” I said, quickly, and flashed her a wide smile.

“Great. You two have fun, but I want you to leave your door open, Jeremy.” She pointed at his chest. 

“Mom! Really?” He cried out. She just wagged her finger at him and walked back into the kitchen.

Jeremy turned to his bedroom. “Geez, you give your parents the impression that you’re straight and they suddenly think all you want to do is have sex.” He shook his head.

“You are a teenage boy.” I said.

“As if I’m not reminded of that enough in gym class. Those P.E. shorts don’t leave much to the imagination. Things flopping around down there.” He said, gesturing to his crotch.

“Ew, stop it.” I shoved him down the hall. 

 

We were in the middle of discussing pet names for each other when Mrs. Chetri interrupted us. 

“Ok love birds.” Her smile was so hopeful it kinda broke my heart. “Jeremy, your dad is home. Do you want to introduce your girlfriend to him.”

“Mom, really, he already knows Nicole.” He shook his head in frustration. “This is stupid.”

“Come on now, Jeremy. Maybe your father has some question for you two.” She grinned uncontrollably and walked back down the hall.

“Gah!” He yelled, and turned to me. “Nicole. I am so sorry about this, but my dad wants to meet you, again, officially as my girlfriend.” 

“Is he going to threaten me with a shotgun or something?” I asked.

“No, my parents want to make sure you’re good enough for me. In case we ever get married.”

“What!” I leaned in close to Jeremy. “Seems awfully picky seeing as how you’re gay and all.” 

“Are you going to play along?” He looked at me pleadingly. “You have no idea how happy this will make them. They’ve been asking me why I don’t have a girlfriend since the start of the school year.”

“Ok. But I draw the line at sex before marriage. Will this mean that we’re engaged or something?” I asked as we walked down the hall.

Mr. and Mrs. Chetri were sitting on the living room couch, holding hands, and smiling at us like a couple of salesmen. 

“Hi,” I tentatively said and waved my hand. Mrs. Chetri shyly waved back at me, like I hadn’t seen her twice already.

Jeremy let out a deep sigh and groaned rolling his head back on his shoulders. “Mom, Dad, This is my girlfriend, Nicole.” 

Mrs. Chetri waved at me a second time. Mr. Chetri, a shorter man like Jeremy, sat up proud and silent. 

God, this was awkward.

Mr. Chetri cleared his throat. “Nicole, it is so wonderful to meet you.” 

Really, dude, you organized our soapbox derby three years ago.

“It means so much to officially meet Jeremy’s girlfriend.”

And you were the judge of the science fair last year.

“Mrs. Chetri and I have been waiting for Jeremy to meet the right girl. Who knew it would be the one right in front of our noses.” 

I practically lived at your house when I was home last summer.

“This is a special moment and we want to take the time to recognize it and understand it.” Mr. Chetri continued.

I was the one who tore up your flower bed when we got over-zealous with the homemade slip-and-slide.

“So I think we should all sit down and talk about the ground rules.” He finished.

Ground rules for fake dating, isn’t that what we were just doing in Jeremy’s bedroom. I went out on a ledge and guessed that a strong offense would be my best defense. 

“I should let you know that because of my strong Christian upbringing, I don’t believe in sex before marriage.” 

Mrs. Chetri’s face fell in shock and Mr. Chetri started to cough. He cleared his throat a second time. “Very good. Well, that’s a relief.”

“And you should know that I have the utmost respect for Jeremy. I know his studies come first, and I will never get in the way of his education. We have been friends for long enough that I would never want to hold him back. His happiness is the most important thing to me.” I put one hand on his chest and the other around his waist. 

“Well then. I approve of your relationship.” Mr. Chetri nodded and looked at his wife. She nodded vigorously in agreement. “I hope you can stay for lunch, Nicole. I’d love to hear about what your plans are for the future.”

Oh God, really? “I’d love to.” I smiled back at them.

 

At lunch on Monday, all the talk around the cafeteria centered on the busted party and who received what types of punishment. Apparently, Sheriff Nedley was so pissed he made his own daughter spend the night in the drunk tank under his very close scrutiny.

Perry, Jeremy, and I were at our usual table, when Waverly walked in by herself. She looked like she had been crying, her face was puffy and her eyes were red. I gave her a small wave, hoping she’d join us. She sat down next to Perry and offered up a weak smile.

“What’s wrong?” Asked Perry, looking her over. 

Waverly just offered a second, weaker smile. 

“Is this about the party being busted?” Perry pressed further.

“Sort of.” Said Waverly, her voice weak and shaky.

I looked at her confused. I knew she couldn’t be in trouble because of the party. “What’s going on? Did someone rat you out for drinking at the party?” I asked.

“No, it has nothing to do with that. Is it ok if we change the subject. I really don’t want to talk about it.” She released a soft sigh and tried to smile again.

“Well, I heard that we’re going to be looking over potential costumes at rehearsal today.” Said Perry, offering a new subject. 

“Yeah, that’s great.” Waverly said, happily accepting the new topic of conversation. 

I watched Waverly talking to Perry about costumes, my mind still trying to sort out what could have upset her. Yes, Champ was an asshole, groping her like she was nothing more than a plaything. But she didn’t seem overly concerned about that on Sunday morning when I drove her home. Or maybe she was just used to being a plaything for Champ. The thought caused me to clench my hands and jaw. 

Jeremy put his hand on my back and leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Hey, you ok, there? You’re looking a little pissed.”

I nodded my head and forced my body to relax. “Sorry. I’m good.” I felt Jeremy’s hand start to rub my lower back, and I hated to admit it, but it actually felt really nice.

“So which scenes are you rehearsing today? Do you know?” Asked Jeremy, turning to face Waverly and Perry.

“I think we’re staging the scenes in the lair today.” Said Perry, with a quizzical look on his face as he watched Jeremy rub my back. “Are you two dating?” He asked.

“Oh, um, yeah. We sort of took our friendship to the next level over the weekend.” Said Jeremy.

Perry immediately choked on his water.

“Not like that!” Jeremy yelled. “I mean, we figured that since we’re such good friends, it made sense to start dating.” 

Both Waverly and Perry looked at us like we admitted to eating dog meat.

“That’s how it happened?” Asked Waverly.

“Yep,” Jeremy smiled, then looked at me, saw my own confusion, and panicked. “Only, in a more romantic way than that.” He said quickly.

“Uh, yeah.” I wracked my brain for a plausible way for us to start dating. We hadn’t discussed the actual how-to of our getting together yesterday, only how we were going to handle it around school. “Jer and I were hanging out at the party on Saturday, when he took my hand and said that he really liked me.”

“Yeah, and Nicole admitted to loving my cute smile and the way my pants hug my butt.” Said Jeremy, as I placed my hand on his thigh and squeezed hard enough to make him jump. 

Waverly gave us a genuine smile for the first time since she sat down. Perry still looked confused. 

“So you’re dating. For real, dating. Boyfriend and girlfriend.” Perry questioned.

“Yep,” I said, giving Jeremy’s thigh and another, more gentle squeeze. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“I think you two are adorable.” Said Waverly, and then sighed wistfully. “It makes me so happy to know that you’re dating.”

I flashed her a sympathetic grin. I could tell something was still bothering her, but she clearly didn’t want to talk about it.

 

At rehearsal that afternoon, I left my crew in the mostly capable hands of Doc, mumbling his semi-intelligent orders. I asked that Jeremy keep an eye on the art room so that the adolescent boys didn’t get any funny ideas about painting hidden penises into the backdrops.

My job was back in the production booth. I was trying a test run of the spot lights while Perry and Waverly rehearsed their “Music of the Night” song. The school had installed a new lighting system that was controlled from the production booth, and I needed to practice using it. I was spotlighting Waverly during rehearsal. 

I quickly got the hang of the controls, and fell back into my favorite pastime of watching her perform. At least with this scene, I didn’t have to watch Waverly with Champ. In fact, he didn’t even bother showing up for rehearsal that afternoon.

Perry stepped up behind Waverly to start the song for the fifth time. I kept the light directly on Waverly, but this time, as Perry began to sing, I joined him from the anonymity of the booth, and sang along with him.

“Night-time sharpens, heightens each sensation,  
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination,  
Silently the senses   
abandon their defenses...”

“Wow.” Jeremy’s voice cut through the darkness in the production booth.

I jumped at hearing his voice and my spotlight jumped as well. Over the speakers, I heard Mrs. Mahoney yell out about the lights.

I pressed my speaker button and apologized to her, then turned to face Jeremy.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were in the art room.” I quickly tried to cover up my embarrassment. 

“Doc is asking for you, I think. You know, you have a beautiful voice. You should be performing rather than hiding back stage.” he said.

“Thanks, but I’ll never get on stage. You couldn’t pay me enough.” I said.

“Why not?” He asked. “You perform with the chorus, so it can’t be stage fright.”

“There is no way I’d put on some fru-fru dress and a ton of make-up and play some girly-girl part. Do you really see me doing that?” I said.

“No, but you clearly would make a great Phantom.” Said Jeremy.

“Yeah, right. Like they’d let a girl play a guy’s role. Nice try.”

“Ok, whatever. Doc still wants to see you.” He said.

I hit my speaker again to let Mrs. Mahoney know I was leaving the booth.

 

I ran into Waverly at our lockers after rehearsal. She was staring into hers absently, when I walked up to her and startled her back to reality. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” I said softly.

“It’s ok, I was lost in my own world.” She grinned over at me.

“Is everything ok?” I asked, knowing full well that it wasn’t.

“Yes and no.” She answered.

“Is this about the party?”

“Champ cheated on me.” She said to her locker.

“What?” I asked, shocked. 

“Yeah,” she let out a deep sigh. “Chrissy told me she saw Champ kissing Stephanie shortly before the party was busted.”

I had no idea what to say to that. My schadenfreude was doing another happy dance, however.

“Can you believe it?” she started,

Yep

“And here I was feeling guilty for leaving him behind.” She said.

“You have nothing to feel guilty about. He grabbed your breasts like he fucking owned them, or something.” My anger was getting the better of me.

“That’s not a big deal.” She said.

“Not a big deal! What, did I hit my head and wake up in patriarchal bullshit land? Of course it’s a big deal. And it pisses me off every time you make up excuses for his behavior. He’s an ass and quit apologizing for him.” I could feel the pulse of my anger beating along with my blood.

“Why the hell are you yelling at me?” Waverly came right back, her expression fierce. “What gives you the right to judge my relationship with him. It’s none of your damn business. You have Jeremy, so leave me alone.” She slammed her locker shut and stormed off down the hall.

I stammered like a fish out of water. What the hell just happened?

 

I didn’t see Waverly the next morning at our lockers, and at lunch, she sat with Chrissy. I did see that Champ was off sitting with Stephanie, so I took a small measure of hope in that.

It wasn’t until rehearsal that afternoon, that I finally came face to face with Waverly for the first time since our fight. She tried to duck her head and push past me without making eye contact, but I reached out for her arm.

“Waverly, can we talk for a minute?” I asked, quickly releasing her elbow. I didn’t want to seem like Champ, thinking I had the right to touch her whenever I wanted.

“Nope. I want to be alone.” She said, not stopping.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” I shouted behind her, then groaned at myself. Nice job, doofus.

But she stopped mid-stride and turned around.

Oh shit. 

There was metaphorical fire in her eyes.

“You know what.” She started to advance on me. I stepped back a couple paces. “For all of your talk about Champ being an ass, you’re just as bad. You’re constantly judging us, thinking you know better than me. How are you any less of an ass than he is?”

“Oh I don’t know, I didn’t grab your breasts?” I shot back, my apology melting under the heat of my anger.

“Why the fuck would you want to grab my breasts?” She shouted.

My mind was stuck. Had I admitted to something inadvertently?

“Exactly. Why would I?” Was all I could come up with in response. I could feel my cheeks light up like Christmas lights.

Waverly huffed and turned to walk away again.

“Waverly, wait.” I said, quickly regaining my wits. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why Champ bothers me so much...”

Of course, I did.

“Can we just call a truce? For a moment.” I said, worried that she didn’t want to listen anymore. 

“You know what the worst part is, I thought you were nice. That you weren’t the judgy type. I expect that from Champ, not you.” She said over her shoulder before walking away.

Ouch.

 

News of Waverly and Champ breaking up quickly spread like wildfire through the school, fueled even more by the fact that they still shared a love scene in the play. It seemed like the school’s collective schadenfreude was taking no small pleasure in the demise of the world’s most beautiful couple. 

Waverly continued to eat lunch with Chrissy and avoided making eye contact with me at our lockers. Jeremy quickly picked up on the additional stress at rehearsals and cornered me in the art room, where we were painting the backdrops for the theater scenes. 

“So are you going to tell me what happened between you and Waverly?” He casually asked when we were on our own. 

I groaned and kept painting. I really didn’t want to talk about it. 

“I thought you’d be happy that she finally broke up with Champ.” He said, moving around to the other side of the backdrop so that we were sort of facing each other.

I growled. What can I say, it’s just stupid, judgy me.

“Nicole, will you say something. You’re getting to be worse than Doc.”

“She told me I’m judgy for highlighting what an ass Champ was.” I said through tight lips.

“Don’t you think she already knows that?” He said.

I stopped and glared at Jeremy, not noticing the paint dripping from my brush.

“Watch it.” He said. I moved to wipe up the extra paint. “What I mean is, how would you feel if I pointed out something painfully obvious to me that you only just realized.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, annoyed.

“Just the fact that you are in love with Waverly. You don’t think that has anything to do with what’s going on between you?”

“I’m not in love with her,” I blurted out in a harsh whisper, not wanting our conversation to travel outside the room.

“See what I mean?” He said, smugly.

“You know what, you’re a really terrible boyfriend.” I huffed.

“I know, I’m the worst.” He giggled. 

“Stop giggling.” I shot back.

“I can’t help it. You’re so cute when you’re frustrated in love.” He said.

I tossed my paint brush in the can and stomped out of the room. Unfortunately, I stomped right into Doc.

“Good,” he mumbled. “... splinters and bandaids.”

“No problem, check the first aid kit in the booth.” I said, pretty sure I had answered his question. He tipped his hat and walked off.

I heard Jeremy step up behind me. “What do you think would happen if he ever had something important to say? Like: hey everyone, the building is on fire.” He laughed. “Nobody would understand what he’s saying.” 

I laughed, too. I remember thinking the same thing when I took shop with him. How was he going to communicate the safety stuff to us? Yet we learned, and nobody cut off a finger.

I turned to face Jeremy. “I’m sorry.” I said. “It seems like all I’m doing these days is pissing off my friends and apologizing.”

“Hey, it’s ok. I understand. What are boyfriends for.” He said.

“According to Waverly, grabbing boobs.” I grumbled. “But if you try that, I WILL punch you.”

“Noted.” He cleared his throat. “No worries, we’re on the same page.”

I laughed again. Jeremy was going to make some guy ridiculously happy. It made me sort of wish that the fake relationship could be real. How much easier would that be to fall for someone who was already a good friend.

 

I knew I needed to fix things with Waverly. She looked like she was taking the break up hard, and it didn’t help that so many of the girls on our class were being so fucking catty about it. I mean, I was glad, too, but not because I wanted to see my friend hurt. I was still pissed that she was lumping me in with all the other girls gossiping behind her back, but I felt sorry for her, too. That, and I just missed talking to her. Our chats at lunch with Perry and Jeremy had quickly become my favorite part of the day.

So on Friday, I hung back a bit, arriving a little late for lunch to see if Waverly would sit with Perry and Jeremy again, if I wasn’t at the table. When I glanced over from the lunch line, I was disheartened to see that she was sitting with them. That meant she just didn’t want to see me.

I took my tray and sat down next to Jeremy, and from the corner of my eyes, I saw Waverly’s jaw tighten down. 

“Waves,” I interrupted Perry’s comment about how lame the prom’s theme was this year. “Can I say I’m sorry?” I asked. I looked over at her hesitantly. Perry looked at me confused. “I was a real ass before. I had no right to say anything about you and Champ.” I looked back at my tray. The green beans were closer to being brown beans. 

“So,” she said, curtly. “You’re free to have your own opinions.” She wasn’t looking at me.

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” I waited a second to see if she would respond. She didn’t. “I miss hanging out with you. Here, at rehearsals, at our lockers. Tell me what I need to do to make this right?” I added.

Waverly gave me an exasperated look. “You were the one person in this whole shitty school who never judged me, and then there you were judging me too, like everyone else.” She stabbed her mystery meat with a little too much emphasis. One of the plastic fork tinges broke off. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, that’s fine.” She said through tight lips. 

“No, it’s not fine. I was an ass, and I’m really sorry.” I said.

She looked up at me again with an angry glare.

“And I’m also sorry you still have to pretend to like him for the musical.”

Waverly huffed. “That jerk thinks that he still has some kind of claim on me just because of the musical. Did you know, he had the balls to ask me to get back together with him?” 

“No, when did that happen?” Perry asked.

Waverly looked at him, “After rehearsal yesterday. It’s my fucking job to be in love with him on the stage and he thought that meant I wanted to get back together in real life.” 

“What did he do?” I asked, hoping I was out of the hot seat.

“He wanted me to go home and ‘study’ with him.” She did the air quotes. “As if. He can go ‘study’ with Stephanie if he’s that hard up.”

Jeremy snickered, then cleared his throat. “Sorry, my bad.”

I quickly tried to think of a way to get the conversation back on the musical, when I remembered our first lunchroom conversation about the plot of the play.

“So, you’re not going to be dying of a broken heart over Champ?” I asked.

Waverly and Perry looked at me confused.

“Like in the the book, Phantom of the Opera, he dies of a broken heart in the end.” I reminded them.

Waverly nodded and Perry shook his head.

“That is complete bullshit, dying of a broken heart. What a crappy ending for the book.” Said Perry.

“You’re just saying that because you’re the phantom.” Said Jeremy.

“No, think about it. Nobody dies of a broken heart. It’s stupidly sentimental. If I were writing it, I’d put in a more heroic ending for the phantom. Even if he doesn’t end up with Christine, I’d still give him a better ending than just disappearing or dying of a broken heart.” Said Perry. “It’s just dumb. It’s too easy.”

“Well, the book was written a long time ago.” Said Waverly. “They probably did think you could die of a broken heart back then.”

“I hope you’re not getting any clever ideas about dying yourself.” I said. “Because if you really want to die of a broken heart, I’m sure we can find someone more worthy of you.”

Waverly smiled at me for the first time in days. “Hopefully, someone who could write me beautiful music.” She looked at Perry again. “You’re right. The ending is stupid, but I love the music. Especially your song, “Music of the Night.” She said. “That’s my favorite.”

“Mine too,” I said. The smile she gave me melted right through me.

Then inspiration hit me. What if I wrote her a beautiful song, or poem, or something. Showed her just how amazing she was. Maybe that was how I could woo her.

 

 

On the way home from school, I decided to detour to the public library. I parked my truck out front next to the row of minivans. Seriously, I was second guessing my choice of venue, worried that I’d be hanging out with the mommy/ toddler brigade, when I walked in the front door and saw the coolest person sitting behind the information desk.

She looked to be in her mid-twenties, and was really pretty. She had her hair piled on her head in a messy bun, a cute, print dress with a rather low V neck front and a set of perfect librarian glasses on a jeweled chain resting on her chest. But the way she snapped her gum and gave me a leveling look told me she meant business.

She eyed me up and down as I walked up to her desk. I suddenly felt really scruffy in my t-shirt and frayed jeans. “How can I help you, cutie?”

“Ah...” My mind drew a blank. Did she call me cutie? Her penetrating brown eyes were firmly fixed on mine, and slowly a smile crept over her face as she seemed to sense that she threw me off.

“Are you looking for something?” She asked. I tried to break her spell by looking down at her name plate. Rosita Bustillos 

“Ah, Ms. Bustillos...” I started.

“Call me Rosita, sweetie.” She winked at me.

Why the hell did she keep doing that? Calling me cutie and sweetie?

“Um, ok... I, ah, I need to write a poem for school.” I finally managed to stammer out. I felt my hands start to sweat and I nervously looked around the library. Anywhere, but at her.

“Oh, poetry. That sounds like an awesome assignment. Follow me, I’ll show you where we keep the poetry.” She stood up and walked around the corner of her desk and I followed her back into the rows of books. 

“Is there a particular type of poem you have to write? Or a poet you’re looking for?” Rosita asked me. Her hips were swaying as she walked and coupled with the soft roll of her dress behind her legs and the way her heels bunched up her calves, it was a little distracting following her.

“I’m sorry?” I asked, glancing back up at her head. She was looking over her shoulder at me with a smirk. Crap.

“Is there a specific poet you’re looking for?” She repeated her question. She stopped halfway down the row of books.

“Oh. No. Not really.” I said.

“Well, this is the poetry section. The anthologies are over here, that’s a good place to start if you don’t know where to start. The single poet collections start here.” She pointed to a tight row of very slim books that continued onto the next several rows. I was already in over my head.

“Thanks.” I said, and started looking over the anthologies. 

“If you need any more help, you know where to find me.” Rosita said as she walked back to her desk.

 

I quickly found several large books of love poems and figured that would be the best place to start. I grabbed a couple of them and found an empty table nearby.

The first thing I discovered, when I started reading The 100 Best Love Poems book, was that love poems could be insanely boring. And that was when I could understand what the hell they were trying to say in the first place. What the fuck, how does this make anyone fall in love with anything? I dropped my head down onto the book in frustration and groaned.

“Not having any luck?” Rosita’s voice came from over my shoulder and I jumped up. She picked up one of the volumes next to me. “Love poems, huh? So you need to write THAT kind of poem for school.” She chuckled. “Here, let me help you out a bit.” And she walked off into the row toward the poetry section. A couple minutes later, she reappeared with a few new books in hand.

“Try these.” She said as she handed me three new books. I put them down onto the table and lifted up the top, very slim, very small book titled Portable Kisses, by Tess Gallagher. “That’s a fun one.” She said.

Fun poetry, what a novel idea. 

“She wrote those to her dead husband. Not having what the heart wants makes these poems so painfully beautiful.” Rosita said.

That’s fun? I questioned. I turned over the book in my hand when Rosita slapped the next book on the pile.

“This, however, is the holy bible of love poetry. Pablo Neruda writes the best love poems. They are sensual and moving. And that’s just the English translation. If you read Spanish, they’re even better.” She winked again. “Try these books and see what you think.” And then she walked off.

I started with the Tess Gallagher book because it was shorter. Immediately, I was engrossed. A whole book about kissing and kisses, poems in which the kiss takes on a persona. This, I could understand. And I loved it. 

“Little Invitation in a Hushed Voice” by Tess Gallagher

“Even birds help  
each other. Come  
close. Closer.  
Help me  
kiss you.”

This is what I wanted. I wanted Waverly to help me kiss her. I wanted her closer, leaning in, wanting to kiss me. Rosita was right, this was a much better book of poetry.

I picked up the Neruda book, 100 Love Sonnets translated by Stephen Tapscott, and dove in. And disappeared. 

from Sonnet 12  
“Kiss by kiss I travel your little infinity,  
your borders, your rivers, your tiny villages;”

I thought about my hand trailing up and down Waverly’s back again. The gloriously smooth skin stretching out as a never ending roll of a hillside. 

from Sonnet 17  
“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.  
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;  
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,  
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,  
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.”

This was Waverly falling asleep next to me. My arm draped over her back and the soft rise and fall of each delicate breath. Even in her sleep, even in her breathing, she was so feminine, so graceful. Then the next morning, Waverly’s nose sifting through my hair, seeking out the back of my neck. Her hand running smoothly over my waist, circling my stomach and pulling me into her. She was so entirely woman, in a way I could never be. She was soft and yet still so strong. I wanted that strength, even if it wasn’t in me, then wrapped around me like her arm.

I picked up the last book in the pile. Rosita didn’t say anything about this book. I looked over the cover: poems between women: four centuries of love, romantic friendship, and desire, by emma donoghue. 

What the...

I flipped through the book and opened it to the last poem. 

Why would Rosita assume I’m ga... whoa! I read the first stanza of Ali Smith’s poem “Genesis.”

“Imagine. You come easily to me  
smoothly as honey comes around a spoon  
as apples come easily to the tree.”

The image of a spoon slowly pushing into a jar of honey devastated me; the swell around the spoon as it dips in, slowly creeping up the sides. 

The words hurt to read. I squinted as I read on, shielding myself from their truth. Holy shit, I wanted that. I didn’t even know what that was, but I wanted it. I wanted to be the spoon sinking into Waverly’s honey. 

Actually, that sounded like something Champ would say. Only way more beautiful. 

I grabbed the books and quickly checked them out at the self-service station, and avoided Rosita’s eyes as I walked out of the library. I drove straight home. If I wanted to write a good enough poem to woo Waverly, I had my work cut out for me.

 

At our first Saturday rehearsal, Waverly found me in the production booth as the teachers were staging one of the few scenes without her. She sat down in one of the chairs lining the back wall and looked over all of the equipment in the room.

“So, do you know what all of this stuff does?” She gestured at the front desk full of buttons and controls. 

“Mostly.” I said. “Most of it controls the sound and lighting around the stage. I usually don’t need to change much. Once it’s set, I’m good to go.”

“It’s kinda cool back here, I can see why you like it. It’s like your own little lair.” She laughed.

“Yeah, I was thinking about that myself. I’m like the phantom back here, I can control what happens on stage. Only, don’t worry, I have no plans to kidnap you.” I joked.

“Speaking of kidnapping me, I was wondering what you are doing tonight. I talked to Mr. McCannon about my costumes and I thought it would be fun to dye my hair black like the Christine in the movie. He thought it was a good idea, too.” Said Waverly.

“Oh yeah?” I asked. “You want to dye your hair?” I was a little sad to hear it, her hair was so beautiful as a light brown. It just fit with her soft nature. “You don’t think going black would be a bit much?”

“I thought it would mirror the darkness hidden within Christine’s character, plus it will be fun. I’ve never done anything like that before, I want to shake things up.”

“Plus it would probably piss off Champ, huh?” I added, ever so helpfully.

“Fuck him. I don’t care what he thinks. It’s my hair.” She grumbled. “Anyway, I was going to run into town to the drugstore and pick up some hair dye tonight. Do you want to help me?” She asked.

“Of course.” I quickly said.

“Great, I wasn’t sure if you had plans with Jeremy or something.”

“Oh... ah... no, not really.” I guess if we were actually dating, we probably would, but there was no chance I’d give up an opportunity to spend more time alone with Waverly just to keep up the illusion of relationship.

“Is everything ok with you two? You don’t seem to spend much time together outside of school.”

I was confused by her concern, why would she even know that? Had she been watching us?

“Yeah, we’re fine. I think he might be busy tonight.” This whole fake relationship was really wearing on me. It was starting to feel a lot less like protection and more like an obstacle. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re free. I asked Chrissy, but she’s still grounded, and I’m really ready for a change. You know what I mean.” 

“Sure.” I answered, though I thought I just admitted to being the most lame person on the planet, having nothing to do on a Friday night. “When do you want to go?”

“I was thinking we could walk over to the drug store after rehearsal, then head over to my house.” She said.

“Sounds like a plan.”

 

I waited for her by the production room door. I didn’t want to look too eager, so I picked up my English homework for the weekend and started to read through it. I sat down in the hall, my back to the production room door. 

“Hey good lookin’, What are you up to?” I looked up to see Jeremy walking toward me. “What are you still doing here? I thought you had left already.” He said, sitting down next to me.

“Waverly wants to dye her hair for the show and asked me to help.” I responded. “We’re going to head over to her place to do it.” 

“Nice. What color does she want to go with? I hope she doesn’t want to go platinum, I like her better with brown hair, maybe some highlights, or a little bit of red.” He said.

“Actually, she wants to go black, like the actress in the movie.” 

“Really? Well, ok. That’s better than blond. You should see if she’s willing to try red. I bet she’d be cute as a redhead.” Jeremy smiled at me.

I grinned back, I bet she’d be adorable with auburn hair. Jeremy elbowed me. I looked up to see Waverly walking down the hall toward us.

“Oh shit, hey look, you’re busy tonight, ok? That’s why we’re not spending the evening together.” I quickly said. “That’s what I told Waverly.”

“Ok, actually I am busy.” He said casually.

“Really? Hot date?” I nudged him.

“If I’m lucky. I found a gay youth center in Lincoln, they’re hosting a movie night tonight. I’m going to check it out.” Jeremy spoke into my ear so that Waverly couldn’t hear.

“Aww, you two are so cute, whispering sweet nothings into her ear.” Waverly said as she stepped up to us.

Jeremy flashed her a broad grin, lifted my hand to his mouth, pressed a quick kiss to the back of it. “I gotta run, sweetie.” Then hopped up and left Waverly and I in the hall. 

Waverly kicked the edge of my shoe with her toe. “He really is sweet, I’m surprised that nobody snatched him up before you. Seems like he really knows how to treat a woman, unlike some guys I could mention.”

I got up off the floor and packed my book away in my backpack. “Yeah, he’s great. How are things between you and Champ?” I asked. I watched them during practice, and while things appeared to be cool with them, I hadn’t seen them together on their own since the split up.

“Tense. Weird. I can’t believe I was so excited to get him in the show, now I wish I hadn’t. It would be so much easier if I didn’t have a love scene with him. It’s taxing my acting skills.”

“I bet. Well, for what it’s worth, you two look great on stage. I couldn’t tell anything was wrong when you were going over your final scene yesterday.” I said.

“Thanks. I just keep reminding myself that I’m Christine and he’s Raoul.” She leaned in a little closer to me. “It’s harder than you think, most days. I smell his cologne and I want to smack him for being such an asshole. Did you know he’s officially dating Stephanie now? Like for real. I thought she’d just be a drunk hookup, but now they’re dating.”

We walked out of the school. The late sun shining down on us. I shielded my eyes as Waverly reached into her purse to pull out a pair of oversized sunglasses. 

“I don’t think you have anything to be jealous about. Stephanie is a bit of a ho. They deserve each other.”

Waverly smacked my arm. “That’s not very nice, Nicole.”

“Sorry. But it’s true.” I said, looking ahead. I heard Waverly snicker. I grinned back at her.

“Maybe, but it’s still not a very nice thing to say.” 

We walked down the front steps of the school and headed toward the town square a block away. 

“I still say you deserve someone better than Champ. Is there anyone you’re interested in?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me. 

“No, I think I need some time on my own. I’ve been dating Champ for so long, it’s weird to be on my own. But it’s also really freeing. The world is my oyster.” She threw her arms wide open, then laughed. “Only I’ve never tried oysters before.” 

“No? You should definitely try some. My grandmother makes an oyster dressing for Thanksgiving each year.”

“Really, What’s it like?” She asked.

“Kinda salty, but good. It’s mixed in with breadcrumbs and that kind of thing, but it’s really tasty.” 

“I’d like to try it sometime.” Waverly smiled up at me. My heart jumped up my throat, I’d make it for her right now if I knew the recipe. 

“If we go to my home to dye your hair, I think I have the recipe. We could try making it.” I offered.

“For real? You’d do that for me?” She asked, so hopeful.

“Of course, you’d have to help me, though.” I said.

“That sounds like fun. What else did you want to make with it? I’m not sure I’m up for Turkey.”

“I make a mean steak,” I said.

“Nah, I’m trying to cut out read meat.” She shook her head. 

“How can you live in Nebraska and not eat red meat? Isn’t that against the law or something.” I teased her.

“Very funny, I just can’t imagine eating a sweet cow. They ‘re so cute.” She pouted her lips.

“But you can eat a chicken or a turkey?” I asked.

“Well, they aren’t so cute, and chickens are mean. We used to keep chickens on our homestead, before Daddy... Wynonna would make me go get the eggs, and they’d peck my hands to pieces if I couldn’t distract them.”

“Sorry.” I mumbled. I didn’t mean to bring up her family.

“Don’t worry about it. Why don’t we hit the grocery and see what they have after we get the hair dye.” Waverly suggested.

“Cool.” I said as we approached the drug store. 

Stepping inside, the store felt cold, with the air conditioning already running. We found our way back to the beauty section and located the hair dye. There was a huge array of colors and brands to choose from. I had no idea there were so many options. 

“Hey, look at this.” said Waverly, holding up a box. “It’s eggplant, what do you think about this one?” She asked. 

I tried to imagine Waverly with purple-black hair, then crinkled up my nose and shook my head.

“What’s wrong with this?” She asking, pouting again.

“I don’t think you’d look good with purple hair. Too goth.” I said.

“Maybe Christine should be goth, if she’s going to hang out with the phantom in his lair.”

“Are you planning on rewriting the show’s ending?” I asked.

“Maybe, if Champ keeps acting like an asshole. Wouldn’t that be great. I could go off script and just walk off with Perry. Leave Champ on stage by himself. He’d deserve that.”

“That would be great.” I laughed.

“All I ask of you... is that you stop being such a jerk.” Waverly sang, improvising a new ending to the song. We both laughed.

“Perry’s nice, though.” Said Waverly.

“Yeah,” I agreed, my internal warning lights going off.

“I’m surprised he isn’t dating anyone.” She said.

“I don’t know, maybe it isn’t his thing.” I said.

“Do you think he’s gay?” She asked.

“What! No. I don’t think so.” I said, my panic rising. Just hearing that word cross her lips set my pulse racing. 

“It’d be ok if he was, I mean, with me, you know.” She was looking at a new box of hair color.

“Yeah, sure. With me too, but I don’t think so.” I said, trying to calm my nerves.

“Do you think anyone in our class is gay?” She quietly asked, looking up at me.

I was worried that my heart was about to jump out of my chest. I though for sure she could see it pounding away. I felt a sweat break out down my back.

“Um... I don’t know. I’m not really good with that kind of thing.” I said.

Waverly nodded her head and picked up a box of red hair dye. “This is really funny, but I used to wonder if Jeremy was gay.” She looked up at me, a little panicked. “I don’t mean anything bad by that. I really like him, and now I know you two are dating, so I know I was wrong.” She added.

I felt a blush light up my cheeks. I didn’t know how to answer her.

“Oh God, I’ve pissed you off. I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean it. Never mind.” She said.

“It’s ok.” I quietly choked out. 

“Hey, so what if we dye your hair, too. I think you’d look really cute with red hair.” She held out the box of hair dye to me.

I didn’t know about the hair dye, but I was caught off guard by her saying I would look cute under any circumstances. “Really?” I asked.

“Yes. You’d be super cute.” She reached up and ran her fingers through the bottom edge of my hair. 

I shuddered, I physically shook, and she smiled at me so sweetly I had no choice but to mutter back. “Ok.”

“Yay! This will be so much fun. We’ll dye each other’s hair and cook dinner. It will be a girl’s night in.” She jumped up and down and clapped her hands. I felt betrayed by my heart as it did the exact same thing. 

Fuck. So now I’d be a red head. At least it was temporary. 

Waverly picked out a black hair dye and after we bought them, we walked over to the small grocery just behind the square. 

We walked back to the meat section and I quickly found a can of raw oysters by the fish stand. As I held it up to look it over, the a woman from the meat department wearing a long white coat approached us from behind the counter. 

“Those’re not for eating raw, you understand.” She pointed with a thick finger at the can. Her grey hair was tied in a bun and held in place by a hairnet. 

“Oh, no we’re going to cook them.” I quickly answered her, confused. Waverly grimaced at me and stuck out her tongue. 

“Sometimes boys like to buy them and dare each other to eat them raw, but those aren’t the kind for that sort of thing.” She gave me a piercing look, like she was trying to ferret out a lie.

“Nope, we’re going to fully cook them.” I said back in reply. “I was going to try out my grandmothers recipe for oyster dressing.” 

Around here, the fastest way to get out of trouble is to talk about Jesus or your grandparents. 

“Alrighty then. Just as long as you don’t eat them raw. They’ll make you awful sick.” She turned and walked away from us.

As soon as the other woman was out of ear shot, Waverly leaned against my shoulder and laughed out. “Oh man, that’s so gross. Who would want to eat an oyster raw?”

“I know, right.” I agreed. “I bet Champ would try if someone dared him.”

Waverly snorted. “Champ would do just about anything for a dare.” Her face went serious. “I heard that’s how he and Stephanie got together at the party. Someone dared him to kiss her.” 

“I’m sorry.” I looked down at her. I didn’t mean to ruin the mood by bring up Champ.

“No worries. He’s an asshole, but now I know how to get rid of him for the play if he continues to be an asshole.” She picked up the can from my hands and shook it. “I’ll get someone to dare him to eat some of these babies and he’ll hopefully be too sick to perform.” She gave me a sly smile.

“You’re mean. Remind me not to piss you off.” I laughed, trying to lighten the mood again.

“Oh, you have no idea.” She handed the jar back to me.

 

We picked up some breadcrumbs along with the oysters and a frozen pizza for dinner, and headed back to my house. 

When we pulled into the driveway, I saw that my dad’s truck was missing. I secretly sent a thank you up to the heavens, I was hoping to have the house to myself. 

The house was dark when we entered through the kitchen door. The kitchen in the old farmhouse was enormous and actually had enough room that my dad and I created a work space where Dad could sort through the mail and I could do homework near the wireless router. 

We set down our purchases on the counter and I put the oysters in the fridge for later. Waverly hoped up in the counter next to me and picked up the box of black hair dye.

“Do you want to go first, or should I?” She asked, flipping the box over to read the directions.

“I think you should go first, since this is for the play. Yours is more important than mine.” I said, watching her read. I glanced down at the box of red hair dye, feeling a little more unsure now that we were home with it. 

“So it says we should do it over a sink or tub. Do you have a bathtub here?” She looked up at me hopefully.

“I do, but I don’t know how comfortable that will be. It’s a tiny bathroom, there won’t be much space for both of us to fit in there.”

“Is there somewhere else we could do it? It sounds like it could make a big mess.” She said.

“We could probably do it here over the kitchen sink.” I pointed next to me. 

“I don’t want to get your kitchen sink dirty.” She protested. “Why don’t we go back to my house, we have a huge bathroom.”

“No, really. It’s ok. It’s just Dad and I, and he never freaks out about that kind of thing. In fact, this is where he usually cleans up after coming in from the fields. On days he’s fertilizing, man- you better watch out and not light a match in here.” I laughed. 

Waverly smiled at me, “Are you sure he won’t mind?”

“Absolutely. There’s been far worse in this sink besides some hair dye.” I reassured her. 

 

Actually, once we got the bottle of dye open, I wasn’t sure about that last statement. I had no idea that hair dye would be so rank. The smell quickly overwhelmed the kitchen.

“Man, that’s gross. Ok, I’m glad we’re doing it here and not at my place.” She patted me on the arm. 

“Thanks,” I grumbled back. Still, I was glad to have her here, even if it made the whole house stink. 

I ran up to our linen closet and grabbed several ratty towels to use and a couple old sweatshirts we could change into as protection for our clothing. 

Waverly changed into my sweatshirt in the powder room just off the kitchen, and while she was in there, I slipped off my t-shirt and pulled the sweatshirt for myself over my head. 

When she emerged from the bathroom, Waverly looked so cute in my oversized sweatshirt that draped down almost covering the end of her short skirt. She rolled up the sleeves several times to leave her hands free.

“So, where do you want me?” She looked up at me with her sunshine smile. 

God, I wanted to hug her. I bit my cheek and said, “Up on the counter. Why don’t you lie down and have your head hanging over the sink.” I rolled up a towel to put under her neck. 

She hopped up on the counter again and this time lay back with her head to the sink. I helped her scoot up closer to the edge of the sink and held the towel for her, under her head, as she adjusted her skirt. 

With her head in place, I turned on the faucet and set it to warm. As I waited for the water temperature to adjust, I asked her if she was comfortable. 

“It’s a little weird on my neck.” She sat up a little and rearranged the towel. When she lay back down, she swept her long hair into the sink. “Much better.” She said. Her hair pooled into the bottom of the sink.

I used the sprayer to start wetting her hair. “How’s the temperature of the water?” I asked, running my fingers through the soft tips of her hair.

“Can you make it a little warmer?” 

“Sure.” I adjusted the temp up a little. “How’s that?”

“Perfect.” She tilted her head back to smile up at me. 

I found it really difficult to make eye contact with her, with her hair in my hands and her smile so close to me. I grinned back, but kept my eyes on her hair.

“So I need to get all of your hair wet. Is that ok?” I asked. I didn’t want to surprise her, if she wasn’t ready for me to spray her down. 

“Go ahead.” She kept looking at me, and it became really unnerving. 

“What?” I asked, pulling the sprayer down close to her scalp, the way I saw my own hairdresser do. 

“Nothing.” She continued to watch me wet her hair.

“Ok, really. What?” I stopped. I wanted to be annoyed, but I couldn’t help grinning down at her. 

“You have the smallest nostrils I’ve ever seen.” She giggled.

“Huh?” I rubbed my nose with the back of my free hand and desperately hoped I didn’t have any boogers. 

“Yeah, they’re cute.” She continued to giggle. She reached back with her hand and tried to flick some water on me.

“Careful, I have the sprayer and I’m not afraid to use it.” I laughed. “So I have cute nostrils, I’ll be sure to update my tinder profile.”

Waverly burst out with a loud laugh. 

I continued to wet down her hair, and gathered it up in my hand to keep it from slipping down the drain. Her hair was so soft, it barely felt like anything. I turned off the water and squeezed out the excess water from her hair. 

“So, are you ready for this?” I asked, before picking up the plastic bottle of hair dye. 

“Yep. Let’s do this.” She grinned back. 

I opened the bottle up again and the smell hit us both at the same time. We both cringed, as I slipped on the plastic gloves provided in the box. 

“Oh God, I hope my hair doesn’t smell like this when we’re done.” She pinched her nose shut. A moment later, she said, “Geez, I can even taste it.” She stuck out her tongue.

I laughed at her, and slowly poured some of the dye into my hands and started rubbing it into her hair. I tried to avoid the skin around her hairline, but I took the opportunity to run my fingers along her scalp. I massaged her head a little as I worked the dye throughout her hair. 

Waverly closed her eyes as I ran my hands back through her hair. “That feels nice.”

I smirked down at her. Her eyes were still closed, so I started to rub her head a little harder. She hummed her approval and I could feel the vibration through her scalp. 

I took my time working all of the dye through her hair, but when I finished, Waverly pouted. “Don’t stop. That feels so nice.” 

“I bet. I love going to the hair salon. They always give me a nice head massage when they wash my hair.” I said.

“I know. I don’t go very often, hence the long hair, but that’s my favorite part, too.” She said, slowly opening her eyes. “Am I ready to sit up?” She asked.

“Sure.” I gave her a hand to help her sit up. Once she was up, I wrapped her hair into a bun on top of her head and put the silly plastic cap over her hair.

“How long do we wait?” She asked, picking up the directions.

“I think it was between twenty and thirty minutes. Depending on how strong you want the color to be.” I said.

“I say we go with thirty minutes. I want it to be bold and dramatic.” She winked at me and I turned away as I felt my cheeks flush.

“Do you want a snack while we wait?” I looked around the kitchen.

“Not really, this smell is awful.”

“Yeah, good point. Funny, they don’t mention that on the box. Seems like there should be a warning or something.” 

“Right, then who would buy it?” She said.

“Crazy teenagers hoping to piss off their ex-boyfriends.” I laughed at her. She gave my shoulder a gentle shove. “Are you really up for going through this stinky process again for me?” I asked.

“Of course, I’m actually really excited to see how yours turns out.” She gave me her sunshine smile. “I bet you’re really cute as a redhead.” She winked again.

 

After thirty minutes, Waverly lay back down on the counter and I turned the faucet on to warm water. She pulled the plastic cap off and I used the sprayer to start rinsing off the extra dye. I could already tell that her hair was much darker than it was to start with. She wanted dramatic, that’s exactly what she got.

I watched the dark dye swirl around in the bottom of the sink, before falling down the drain. I accidentally managed to get some water in her ear. Waverly jumped and yelled out.

“Careful, remember, you’re next.” She said, pointing her finger at me.

“Sorry,” I laughed, and she huffed in return.

“I can’t wait to get my hands on your hair.” She muttered under her breath. 

 

Once she was rinsed, Waverly sat up and grabbed a towel to twist up around her hair. “Your turn,” she said to me, pointing at the counter.

“I’m not sure about this,” I hesitated.

“Up.” She pointed at the counter a second time. “Time to be bold. And if you hate it, we can go back to the store and I’ll get a brown dye and color it back since it was my idea.” She crinkled her nose up in a cute smile. “But I really do think it will be cute. Go on and try, what can it hurt?”

Ok, Nicole. Time to be bold. The lady wants to see you with red hair, then red hair you’ll have.

“Fine, let’s do this.” I relented. Waverly squealed in delight, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

I got onto the counter and lay back. Since I was quite a bit longer than Waverly, my legs were stretched out all the way across the stove in order to have my head in the sink. Waverly handed me a dry towel and I placed it under my neck. I swept back my hair, but since it was shorter than Waverly’s, there wasn’t a worry that it would get caught behind my neck. 

Waverly put on the plastic gloves and turned on the water. “How Haught do you like it?” She asked nudging my shoulder. I laughed at her stupid joke. 

“A little warm,” I replied. “Not as Haught as you like it.” I shot back.

Waverly snorted. “I like it really Haught.” And she sprayed me with water.

“Hey,” I sat up. “No fair, I didn’t spray you!” 

“That’s for getting water in my ear. Now we’re even, so lie down.” She gestured at the sink. 

I sank down tentatively, keeping an eagle eye on her and the sprayer in her hand. 

“Seriously, we’re even now. I promise no more sprays. Unless you deserve it.” She laughed.

I shook my head before placing it back in the sink. Waverly began wetting my hair and the first thing I realized was just how close her face was to mine. I closed my eyes and felt her fingers run through my hair.

A jolt of electricity shot through my body and I could feel goosebumps erupt all over me. I was enjoying this WAY too much. 

I looked back up at Waverly, and she had the cutest look of concentration on her face as she worked her fingers through my hair. I closed my eyes again as I felt my heartbeat increase.

Dead kittens. Dead kittens. Just think about dead kittens.

“Shit.” I heard Waverly curse. I looked up and she was trying to push up the oversized sleeves of the sweatshirt past her elbows, but they kept falling back down. “Do you mind, I’m going to take the sweatshirt off while doing this. It keeps getting in the way.”

I shook my head, no, assuming she still had her shirt on underneath it. 

I was wrong.

Waverly stripped off the sweatshirt to reveal a bright blue, lacy bra underneath. And nothing else. Even the towel wrapped around her head fell off and her damp, black hair fell to her shoulders. 

Fuck. Dead kittens.

“Back.” She pointed at the sink, and I quickly realized that I was staring with my mouth open. She pressed her lips together in an oddly confident grin as I faced the ceiling again. 

Now, not only was her face near me, but the edge of her blue bra hovered inches from my peripheral vision and her toned arms stretched out over my head. 

I closed my eyes again. Mangled up kittens. 

I clenched my hands, as I felt lace brush against my cheek. FUCKING HEADLESS KITTENS.

“Relax,” I heard Waverly say. “I’m not going to hurt you.” 

I couldn’t help but laugh because this was utter torture. 

Fortunately, the smell of the hair dye came to my aid and distracted me as she worked it into my short hair. I still felt her fingers crawling all over my head, massaging me. But the odor of the dye was enough to almost burn my eyes and keep my mind off of her breasts so close to my face. 

 

When we were done coloring my hair, I sat up on the counter and watched for Waverly’s first impression of me as a redhead. 

I ran my hand back through the damp strands. “Well, what do you think?”

“Wow. Jeremy is really going to thank me.” And her sunshine smile returned to her face.

“Yeah?” You think it looks good?” I asked.

“I think it looks fantastic.” She said, reaching up to touch the wet tips near my ear.

I hopped off the counter and walked back to the powder room to see if for myself. I flicked on the light and for a moment it looked like my head had caught fire. I didn’t realize just how red it was going to be. 

Waverly stepped up and hip-checked me to move me over. She stood next to me, playing with her own dark hair, still wearing just her bra on top. 

I willed myself to look only at my hair in the mirror, running my fingers back, pushing it behind my ears, and then shaking it out again.

“Nobody is going to recognize us on Monday.” Waverly said. I chanced a glance over at her through the mirror. She was still stunning.

I turned to face her. “You know, I wasn’t sure how the black would look on you, but it’s really nice. It brings out your eyes more.” I said.

Waverly faced me with a wide smile. “Yeah?”

“Yes. It makes your eyes look lighter, in comparison to your hair.” I reached out and pulled a few strands from behind her ear to place them on the side of her face next to her eyes. “See what I mean?” I asked.

She faced the mirror again and smiled. “Yeah, I think I do.” She played with her hair some more. 

 

When we were done in the powder room, Waverly put the sweatshirt back on, and honestly, I was relieved. It meant I could look at her again without fear of staring at her breasts. 

“Are you still up for making the oyster dressing?” I asked.

“Sure, let’s see those oysters.” She said.

I grabbed the jar from the fridge and opened it over the sink so that the juice wouldn’t go all over the place. 

“Whoa.” Waverly said, quickly pinching her nose again. “Was is it with all the bad smells? Do you really eat these?” She asked.

“Well, not like this.” I answered. I picked up one of the oysters and it slipped out of my fingers and back into the jar. 

“Gross.” Waverly said. She reached over to pick up one, too. “Oh gross, it’s so slimy. And it looks like a little mouth.” She pinched the oyster between her two sets of fingers to make the “mouth” part of the oyster speak. “Look at me, I’m smelly and slimy, and yet for some reason, people think I’m a delicacy.”

I laughed at her, and picked up an oyster to make it talk back. “And if you eat me raw, I’ll make you sick. How fun.”

Waverly tossed the oyster back in the jar. “Do we really have to cook these. I’m not sure I want to try them anymore.” She looked up at me, hopefully.

“Well, we always have frozen pizza.” I said.

“Much better. How about pizza and a movie night?” Waverly asked.

“Sounds perfect.” 

 

I carried the jar of oysters out to the garbage can by the barn so it wouldn’t stink up the whole house. As I was walking back, I noticed my dad pulling into our driveway. I waved at him, but he just slammed on the brakes and stared. Then I remembered my hair. I ran my fingers back through my hair and smiled at him. He didn’t pull up until I was back in the house.

When he got inside, he asked, “What happened to your hair, Peanut?”

Waverly and I were still in the kitchen waiting for the pizza to finish heating up. 

“We dyed it.” I paused, flicking it around. “What do you think?” I asked.

“Not bad.” He nodded. “Any special occasion?” He walked over to the sink to wash his hands. 

I looked over at Waverly. She had a worried expression on her face. “Nope, just seniors being seniors.” I said.

“Well, if that’s the worst you do this year, I’m in luck. I’m just glad you weren’t at that party over at Sheriff Nedley’s house. I hear it was mostly seniors there.”

“Yeah, me too. But, you know I don’t drink.” I said, looking back at Waverly, she looked away from me.

“And I’m very glad.” He stepped up to me and kissed my cheek and messed my hair. “This looks nice, Peanut.” He walked off into the house. 

“Your dad is so chill.” Said Waverly, after we heard him climb the stairs to his bedroom.

“Yeah. He’s pretty relaxed. After the divorce, it was just me and him. Now it’s like we’re buddies rather than father and daughter.” 

“That’s nice.” She picked at the string on the sweatshirt. “I like that he calls you peanut. That’s cute. Uncle Curtis still calls me ‘baby girl,’ and it drives me up a wall. Now he even has Wynonna saying it.” Waverly shook her head. 

“I can see how that would be annoying.”

“Whenever I call him out on it, he says- you’ll always be my baby girl.” Waverly mimicked a man’s voice. She looked up at me and sighed. 

Just then the timer went off on the oven. I pulled out the pizza, we plated up about half of it, and took it into the living room.

Waverly sat down next to me on the couch and I turned on the TV.

“What do you want to watch?” I asked.

“I don’t know, what are you up for?” She returned the volley.

I heard Dad’s door open on the landing upstairs and looked up over my shoulder.

“What are you girls up to tonight?” He asked.

“We’re having a girls night in with pizza and a movie.” I said. Waverly grinned next to me.

“That sounds like fun. Mind if an old codger joins you?” He asked.

I looked over at Waverly and she just shrugged her shoulders. 

“Sure,” I said. “There’s some more pizza left in the kitchen. We were just deciding on what to watch.”

Dad descended the stairs and walked back to the kitchen. “I’m kinda in the mood for a scary movie. What do you girls think?”

“Like old school scary or more recent scary?” I asked, knowing full well my dad preferred his older movies.

“What about “The Omen?” He asked from the kitchen.

Waverly looked at me confused. “I haven’t heard of that one.” She said.

“Oh, cool!” I responded. “It’s great. It’s super old...”

“It’s not THAT old.” Dad yelled back.

“It’s ancient and terrifying.” I continued. “I think it’s even in black and white.”

“No, it isn’t.” He yelled.

“If you like scary movies about religion, you’ll love it.” I said.

Waverly was laughing at Dad and I. “Ok, I’ll try it.” She said.

“Plus, you get to watch this dude get his head cut off in slow motion.” I added.

“Hey, don’t give away the best parts.” Said Dad, as he walked in with a plate of pizza. He sat down in the lounger next to the couch. I searched for the movie.

 

As the move played, Waverly crept closer to me on the couch. In the darkened living room, lit only by the glow of the TV, I watched her hands snake around my arm.

“Is this ok?” She asked in a whisper, squeezing my arm.

“Sure.” I said back, everything inside of me glowing bright.

Then she pressed her face into my shoulder at a scary moment, and I froze. I was terrified that if I moved a hair, she would pull her hands away and stop leaning into me. I was so focused on the feeling of her next to me, I could barely pay attention to the movie. 

I started to wonder if I put my arm around her shoulders, would she curl up next to me. My mind raced through tantalizing scenarios of Waverly and I cuddled up together. But my dad was still sitting on the lounger and I was far more afraid of what he would say, than the scary scenes in the movie.

When the movie ended, I offered to drive Waverly home and Dad said that he was going to bed. 

Waverly wished him a good night and he winked back at her in return. 

When we stepped outside, I could tell the evening was much cooler and I shivered a bit when I climbed in the cab. Either that, or my nerves were still out of control from feeling Waverly hold my arm for the past two hours.

“Your dad is great.” Said Waverly, as we sat in the truck. 

“Thanks.” I said. “I hope the movie wasn’t too scary for you. I forgot how intense it was at the end.”

“That’s ok. I had you to protect me.” She said, looking out the windshield.

I chuckled lightly, trying to play it off, but deep inside I was screaming my agreement. 

I drove her home in silence. When we reached her house, she thanked me for a fun night and gave my hair one last brush.

“I can’t wait to hear what Jeremy thinks of it.” She smiled and winked at me before opening the truck door and running into her house.

I didn’t give two fucks about what Jeremy would think about my hair. All I cared about was finding a way to let Waverly know that it was her opinion that mattered most to me, that it was her touch that sent me to the moon.

When I got home, I sat down at the desk in my room and started my work on the poem. I wanted to create my own music of the night for Waverly. 

At three in the morning, still buzzing with passion, the library books splayed open on the floor by my chair, I finished my poem.

 

Our Universe 

I like to imagine us in an alternate universe,   
lounging on opposite sides of a soft couch,   
our legs intertwined.   
You are reading and   
I am distracted by the quiet   
comfort of this moment,   
so easy,   
so natural. 

Your brown hair curls around your rising chest   
and a slow smile blossoms over your face   
as I stare unabashed at your beauty.  
Slowly, I draw in a long breath,   
and feel my need to set out  
like an explorer, learning your body,  
grow with every breath you take.   
I lift your foot to my lips and   
kiss each delicate toe,   
your sensitive arch, your capable ankle.

“Everything ok?” You hum   
and shift your weight, allowing me to sit   
up around your legs.   
I don’t need to look anymore   
to know you have stopped reading.   
Your legs open,   
drawing me in, inviting me.   
I hear your purr as you set down the book. 

I am at your knee, the soft curve   
and then the long dune of inner thigh,  
when I hear you sigh.  
I love this edge in particular,  
just before the no-turning-back point.   
I love the wondering, the wanting tied up   
together. Do I go on, take the time   
and complete this? 

Do I sit back and let your body want a little longer?   
Either way is filling: potential or kinetic energy.   
A wave cresting, frozen in its moment before the crash.  
I want to keep you here, at your crest,   
suspended and tight.  
Your white flag of surrender   
rippling under my lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technical question here: Does anyone know how to get text to be underlined? I’ve tried to correct the missing underlining for the titles of the books I mention, but it won’t appear in the text. The other thing I can’t seem to figure out is how to make indents work.
> 
> Thanks.
> 
> So the three titles I use in this story are:
> 
> Portable Kisses, by Tess Gallagher 
> 
> 100 Love Sonnets, by Pablo Neruda and translated by Stephen Tapscott
> 
> poems between women: four centuries of love, romantic friendship, and desire, by emma donoghue
> 
>  
> 
> I highly recommend them.


	3. Act III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back in the saddle again.

Act III

 

I woke up well into the afternoon on Sunday, Dad was watching TV when I managed to stumble down the stairs into the living room. 

“Late night?” He asked, without turning his attention from the TV.

“Yeah, I was working on a project for school.” I rubbed my eyes.

“What is it?” He asked.

“It’s nothing. I had to write a poem for class.” I quickly lied.

“Oh yeah? Can I read it?”

“NO!” I yelled back, then cleared my throat. “Sorry. It’s kind of embarrassing. I don’t really like it.” I amended. I hoped he’d drop it.

“It’s ok, Peanut. But I’m sure it’s wonderful. Do you want a sandwich?”

“Sure,” I said, relieved.

He got up and followed me into the kitchen. We started to pull out the stuff for the sandwich when my dad cleared his throat.

“So, Waverly seems nice.” He pulled out enough bread slices for two sandwiches.

I tensed a bit, worried about where this conversation was going. “Yeah, she is.” I opened the sliced turkey container.

“Have you two been friends long? I don’t remember you talking about her before.” He opened the mustard jar and got a knife out of the drawer.

“We’re friends from school. Her locker is right next to mine.” I placed turkey on both of our sandwiches.

“I see.” But it sounded like he didn’t. “So was the hair dye her idea?” He spread the mustard. 

“Uh, well, yeah. Sort of. She’s in the play; she’s the lead, so she wanted to dye her hair for her role. We thought it would be fun to do both of our hair. Do you want any lettuce or tomato?”

“No thanks.” Dad walked over and ruffled my hair, “I think it’s cute. It suits you.”

“Thanks.” I grinned.

“So what’s on deck for you today?” He asked, picking up his sandwich and taking a large bite.

“I don’t know. I have more homework to do. I thought I’d call Jeremy, see if we can meet up.” 

“Will you be hanging out more with Waverly?” He asked. 

I stiffed again. “Uh, I don’t think so. Why?”

“You don’t normally bring friends over. It was nice to meet her.”

“Sure.” I replied, and Dad wandered back into the living room with his sandwich. I stood at the counter and ate my own. 

 

After eating and cleaning up, I picked up my Stetson and took a look at myself in the bathroom mirror. My red hair curled up around my ears under the brim of the white hat. I was worried that I would look like a candy cane with my favorite hat on, but I actually liked it. The hat tamed down the bright redness of my hair and made it looked like I could possibly be a natural redhead. I grabbed my truck keys and yelled out at Dad that I was taking off. He grunted back an ok.

The door creaked jarringly as I opened the truck and jumped in. One of these days, I’d remember the WD-40 to oil down the hinge. I popped in Garth Brooks and forwarded to “Rodeo.” Adjusting my hat low over my brow, I curled down the edges of my lips in a scowl and grabbed the shift of the truck to put her into reverse. 

I squinted down the driveway and nodded my head. I was a tough-ass mother fucker, and if I wanted to write a poem for a beautiful woman, I damn well was gonna. 

Hell yeah.

I thought back to the image of me poised between Waverly’s legs that drove my poem, and a shudder ran through my body. 

Hell yeah.

I shifted lower in my seat and held on to that image, before slamming on my brakes as I almost missed a stop sign.

Shit. 

I refocused on the road and tried to imagine how I would give the poem to Waverly. There was no way in hell I could just walk up and give it to her. What if she hated it, or hated me for writing it, or even thinking it. I tapped out the beat of the music on the plastic steering wheel with my thumbs. 

We only had a couple months left in the school year, then we’d both be heading our separate ways. Maybe it was better to just let it go...

But as I was trying to convince myself to abandon the poem, the feeling of Waverly pressed up against my arm last night storm troopered my senses. I let out a deep breath. Waverly’s fingers in my hair, the smirk she wore as she stood half naked next to me, the edge of her breast lifting out of her bra... God, it ruined me. It felt like I’d never breathe again.

I took two long pulls of air and decided I was going to do it. Fuck it all, if she hated me, then she hated me. 

Then I wondered, what if she didn’t know it was from me? What if I slipped it into her backpack during rehearsal? That would be super creepy, but at least I could see how she reacted to it before revealing it was from me.

I started to plot out a plan, instead of putting it into her backpack, where anyone could watch me do it, I figured that I could get to school very early on Monday and slip it into her locker before she arrived. 

My hands began to shake just thinking about it. I gripped the wheel harder. Rolling down my window, I let my hand lay back outside the window feeling the current of air push and pull at my fingers as I drove past the corn fields. I was a bad-ass, mother fucking senior, this was my time. 

I pulled over in a McDonald’s parking lot as I neared the on-ramp to I-80. I was about 30 miles from home and feeling calmer. I picked up my cell and called Jeremy, needing someone to ground me. 

“Hey boyfriend!” I said when he picked up.

“Oh, hey Nicole. I’m SO glad you called. I had an amazing night last night.” He quickly said.

I was too embarrassed to admit that I couldn’t remember what he was doing last night, so I tried to fake it.

“Oh yeah? Tell me, I was wondering what happened.” I said.

“The movie night was great. It was mostly college students there, but I was surprised how many high school kids showed up. It felt so good not to feel so alone.”

Then it clicked, movie night at the Gay Youth Center.

“So, did you meet any cute guys?” I asked.

“Not really, it wasn’t like that. We were just there and watching a movie and it was so cool. I could just be myself and nobody cared. Actually, it made me feel pretty tame. Lincoln kids are pretty wild. There was one guy, a senior in high school, and he was wearing makeup. He looked like me, but he was wearing makeup! God, it made me so happy. I think I actually squealed.”

I snorted at the thought of Jeremy squealing. 

“What?” Jeremy quickly asked, I could hear some reservation in his voice.

“Nothing, I think it’s cute. I like thinking that you were so happy you squealed.”

“Oh good. I was worried you’d think it was weird.”

“Jeremy, if you ever wanted to wear make-up, I’d totally support you. I couldn’t help you much, seeing as how I don’t wear makeup myself, but I’d support you.”

“Jeez, I could never wear make-up. No amount of support would get me through one day at school. But it made me so excited to know that out there, somewhere, is a guy like me and he can wear makeup. I never even thought about it, it’s too scary to think about, but wow, was it cool to see.”

I laughed, “That’s great. Hey, if you want, I’ll take you out shopping. I’ll buy you some makeup, if you wanted to try it. I mean, we could go together and I’ll pretend that I’m buying the makeup.”

“You would do that?” He asked tentatively. 

“Of course, what are girlfriends for.”

Jeremy squealed through the phone. “Can we go today? Are you free? Oh, God, I forgot to ask, how did your evening with Waverly go?”

“It went really well. We both dyed our hair and then watched a movie.”

“You dyed your hair? What color?” He asked.

“Red.”

“No way, please text me a pic. I have to see it.”

“Ok, fine.” I switched my phone to camera mode and snapped a quick selfie.

Jeremy squealed again. “Can you take another with your hat off, I really want to see your hair.”

“Jeremy!”

“Alright. Besides, I’ll see it tonight, right?” He asked.

“Sure. I’d like that. At least this time, the makeover will be for you, not me.”

 

I drove home singing along with Patsy Cline and tried to envision any scenario in which Waverly would react positively to my poem. I realized that I was about to pull a Phantom move, handing her my music of the night. But a part of me clung to my fantasy of Waverly opening her eyes to my attraction, truly seeing me for the first time. While I knew the ending of this play, I knew the Phantom doesn’t end up with the girl, I hoped my openness would be rewarded with a new ending. Like Waverly said, maybe she’d rewrite the ending to this show.

 

When I got back into town, I stopped off at Jeremy’s house to pick him up. He ran out the front door and jumped into the truck next to me.

“Whoa, man.” He called out, smiling brightly at me. “I like your hair!” He half-giggled.

I lifted off my hat and gave him the full view. 

“You look great as a redhead. I have a Haught girlfriend.” He grinned stupidly. 

I blushed at his comment and gently shoved his arm. “Shut up.”

 

We drove over to the drugstore. Once inside, we quickly found the makeup aisle and I was completely overwhelmed. Rows and rows of colors. I wasn’t sure where to begin. Jeremy walked down the aisle scanning the products. 

He dropped to his knees, picked out an item and held it out to me. I walked over to him and saw that he was holding some body glitter. 

“You and glitter, again. Now I get it.” I said.

“This guy, Tim, from last night, had glitter on like blush and it looked really cool.” He said, standing back up.

“What did you have in mind to get?” I asked.

“I kinda want to find some eyeliner, maybe some mascara. I sort of want to see what my eyes will look like all done up.” He turned to me and winced. “Is this too weird?” He asked.

I wrapped him up in a giant hug. “Look, I may not be the best person to ask about putting on makeup, but I meant what I said before. So let’s just have fun with this.” I felt Jeremy release a deep breath. 

“Thanks.” He said.

We picked out the eye makeup, as well as a blush, body glitter and a couple lipsticks. It was only a tiny bag of makeup, but I was surprised by how expensive it was. We took it back to Jeremy’s house and hid out in his room. Jeremy sat down on the floor by the bottom of his bed and dumped out the makeup and placed a large hand mirror on the carpet.

“So, where do you want to begin?” I asked, sitting next to him, opening up the body glitter. 

“Tim had blush that really brought out the angles of his cheeks and jaw. It looked so cool.” Jeremy held up the blush. “I feel like I have chipmunk cheeks; they make me look like I’m twelve.” He groaned. 

I looked at him quizzically. It seemed weird to hear a guy talk about body image issues. “I think you look really cute. And you have the best smile. Maybe your face is a little softer, but it shows how sweet you are.”

Jeremy leaned his head against his bed. “But I don’t want to be sweet, I want to be hot.”

“Alright, let’s make you hot.” 

“Really?” He looked at me questioningly.

“Let’s start with the blush.” I grabbed it out of his hands and opened it up. Jeremy sat up and I took the brush from the container. “I have no idea what I’m doing, so where do you want it?” I held up the brush with a hint of dark pink on the tip. 

Jeremy took the brush from me and grabbed the mirror. “Tim created a distinct line down his cheek.” He slowly ran the brush down his cheek just under the cheekbone. “And it looked sharp.” He sat back to look at his work. “This isn’t what he did.” Jeremy sounded frustrated.

“Tell me more how it looked.” I said. 

“It was like he had a sharp line and it was shadowed underneath it.”

“Ok, what if we used the eyeliner to draw the line and then use the blush under it for shadow?” I pulled out the eyeliner and took Jeremy’s jaw in my hand and angled his face to the side so that I could work on his other cheek. 

I held the eyeliner in my hand and gently drew back a light line along his cheekbone almost back to his ear. Then I grabbed the blush and swiped it back, careful to keep all of the blush below the line. When I was done, I jumped up and took the tissue box from his bedside table and grabbed a few tissues. I sat back down opposite Jeremy and used the tissues to clean up the line a bit.

Jeremy looked at his cheek in the mirror and his face broke out into a grin. “This is better. Are you sure you don’t know how to use makeup?”

I snorted, and pulled his face in the other direction to create a line down his other cheek. Jeremy applied the blush and we sat back to survey the change.

“What do you think?” I asked. 

“It’s close, but I’m not sure what else to do. I’m not sure how he created the angles on his face.”

“What if we try your eyes.” I suggested. I took the eyeliner and Jeremy looked up at the ceiling.

“Careful.” He mouthed almost silently. I shushed him and drew a delicate line under his eye. Jeremy looked at the mirror again and smiled. “I like that a lot.”

I handed him the eyeliner and he did the same thing to his other eye. He, then, put on the mascara and his dark eyes took on a more defined tone.

“Wow,” I said and sat back. “That’s pretty cool.”

Just then we heard a sharp knock on his bedroom door before it swung open and his mom’s head popped in. 

“Oh, Nicole, your hair! Sorry, I didn’t know you were here. Honey, it’s almost time for dinner...” And she paused as she finally focused on Jeremy. I could feel the panic rising in him. 

“Mom!” Jeremy said sharply.

My mind raced for a way to save this. “Uh, we were practicing the stage makeup for the play.” I quickly tossed out. 

“Oh, ok.” She paused again. “Um, are you staying for dinner, Nicole?” She looked back at me, still confused.

“I don’t want to intrude.” I felt Jeremy’s hand slide over my knee and squeeze me gently. “But if you’re offering, I’d love to.” I smiled back at her.

“Ok. That would be great.” She said and looked back at Jeremy, a little worried.

Just then a crazy idea hit me. “Mrs. Chetri? Do you know anything about makeup? We’re trying to figure out how to make the guys look more manly on stage with their makeup. Unfortunately, neither Jeremy nor I know anything about makeup.”

“Oh, sure.” She cleared her throat and smiled again. She walked into the room and surveyed the makeup between us. “First of all, you’re using all the wrong colors for your skin tone. Those might work for Nicole, but they aren’t going to work as well for you. Hold on one minute.” And she walked out of the room.

Jeremy turned to stare at me open-mouthed. I shrugged my shoulders. 

Mrs. Chetri walked back in with a large makeup case. “I think my makeup will work better on you, honey.” She looked down at us on the floor. “How about we do this at the dinning room table? I don’t think my old bones can sit on the floor for very long.” She walked out the door and down the hall.

I picked up some of the makeup and stood up. Jeremy followed me, but before I could step outside his room, Jeremy grabbed my arm.

“What the fuck?” He whispered hoarsely. 

I shrugged my shoulders again. “Let’s see if she can help us.” I walked out of the room and heard him let out an exasperated breath.

Mrs. Chetri had her kit sitting open on the table with a chair placed in front of her. Jeremy tentatively sat down in the chair. I pulled a third chair out to sit in between them, so I could watch. 

“What did you want to work on? What type of look are you trying to achieve?” Mrs. Chetri asked.

“We’re trying to find a way to make the guys look more chiseled on stage, a little older and more masculine.” I offered. Jeremy sat across from his mom silently.

“Well, if you want to contour the face, it’s best to think about where you want to see shadows and highlights.” She took Jeremy’s face in both hands and gently tilted his face back and forth. “Let’s get you cleaned up and start with a fresh canvas.” She pulled him in and kissed his forehead. “Go wash your face for me.”

Jeremy quickly got up and ran back to the bathroom. Mrs. Chetri turned to me. “Do I get to do you next?” She asked.

“Oh. Um. Well, I guess. If you want. But I don’t want to get in the way of dinner.” I stammered.

“Honey, you won’t take very long, you’re so beautiful.” She said, smiling gently at me. I blushed hard at her compliment. I’d never really thought of myself as beautiful, more tough. I wasn’t sure what she saw in me to call me beautiful. It’s not like I dressed all girly, or had long flowing hair like Waverly. 

Jeremy came back and sat down in front of his mom. “So, if we’re contouring, I think the best place to start is the cheeks.” She pressed her thumbs down along Jeremy’s cheeks. “I like to start by finding my line just under the bone. That’s where you want it to look like it’s shadowed.” She took out a brown pencil and drew two lines just under his cheekbones and only halfway down his cheeks. 

“What are you using?” I asked.

“This is a lip pencil, it’s what I have. I know they make contouring makeup sticks, but I don’t have any. I’m usually doing my contouring with blush.” She looked over her work. “Then I think you can define the nose more.” She drew two lines down the sides of Jeremy’s nose. “And the chin.” She drew a semicircle above the ridge of his chin and even created a small triangle in the middle to make it look cleft. 

“Next, I’d use a toner or blush to create the shadows.” She applied a dark blush below the lines on Jeremy’s cheeks, along the ridges of his nose and around his chin. 

“Then we blend it in.” She used a wide brush to smooth out the lines and while leaving behind the hint of a shadow along Jeremy’s cheek, nose and chin. 

“Whoa.” I said sitting back, looking him over. I handed him the mirror.

His face did look more angular, and it made him look older.

A wide grin burst out across Jeremy’s face. “Cool.” He muttered under his breath. “How did you learn to do this?” He asked his mom.

“From magazines when I was younger, but now I just go to YouTube. There are thousands of videos there on how to do makeup. I bet they have plenty on stage makeup for men on there.” She smiled at Jeremy. He shook his head silently. 

“Did you want to do your eyes next?” She asked her son. 

“Uh, yeah. If that’s ok. Just so we know, for the play, I mean.” Jeremy said.

“Actually, this is really fun. I offered to do up Nicole next.” Mrs. Chetri said and Jeremy snickered. I tried to hide my embarrassment. 

 

As Mrs. Chetri was trying to give Jeremy evil eyes, Mr. Chetri came home. When he saw what was happening at the dining room table, he stopped dead cold. He looked like he was trying to make sense of what he was seeing. 

“Oh, this is stage makeup for the play, dear. I’m teaching them how to apply it.” She giggled. “I’m making Jeremy look more masculine.” She turned to her son as soon as she said it. “Not that you don’t look manly already, sweetie.” Jeremy and I both burst out laughing, and Mrs. Chetri joined in. Mr. Chetri just shook his head and walked down the hall.

We all ate dinner together, Jeremy in his stage makeup, myself with eye makeup and glitter, while Jeremy and his mom discussed different contouring techniques. Mr. Chetri and I sat back and watched the two of them, bemused. 

As I was getting ready to head home, Mrs. Chetri pulled me into a tight hug. “Thank you so much for including me. I really had a lot of fun this evening.” I laughed and nodded my head. Considering we spend the evening doing or talking about makeup, I had a surprising amount of fun, too.

I felt lighter when I got home. Dad was watching a ball game on TV and asked me how my day was. I told him about doing makeup with Mrs. Chetri.

“I was wondering why you look different.” He said to me.

I quickly tried to wipe off some of the glitter from my cheeks.

“No, don’t, Peanut. It looks nice. You look nice with makeup on.” 

My cheeks flamed red. “I don’t know if this is me.” I murmured back.

“Maybe not, and that’s ok, but it’s a nice change.” He said, trying to sound supportive.

“Thanks, Dad.” I quickly tossed out before walking up the stairs to my room. 

“Do you want to watch the game with me?”

“Sorry, I’ve got some more homework to do.” I said, before disappearing into my room.

I sat down at my desk and pulled out the poem for Waverly. I looked it over once more. I felt strangely confident after my time with the Chetri’s that evening. I felt like I wasn’t so weird for writing a poem to Waverly. And honestly, I was really proud of it. I wanted it to be beautiful like Waverly. Sensual without being overly sexy. I ran my fingers back through my newly red hair and again convinced myself to leave the poem in Waverly’s locker the next morning.

 

I drove to school really early on Monday. My plan was to slip the poem into Waverly’s locker before she arrived and hide out in the production room until the start of school. Maybe not my bravest moment, but I didn’t want to risk running into her.

The senior lot was empty when I pulled in. I hoped that my truck wouldn’t stick out as being here so early and have Waverly put two and two together. 

I carefully scanned the halls as I made my way to our lockers. No sign of Waverly, or hardly anyone. I noticed a few teachers were already in their rooms, but no students.

I folded the piece of paper into quarters and held it in my hands. Was I really going to do this? What if she hated the poem. What if she thought I was a creep for doing this. I took a deep breath and before I could question myself anymore, I slipped it up into a vent of Waverly’s locker. 

A cold chill of panic coursed through me as I quickly opened my locker and prepared my backpack for the morning. No going back now.

I made my way to the auditorium and saw Mrs. Mahoney walking down the hall toward me. She looked right through me as she passed by. 

“Hi, Mrs. Mahoney.” I greeted her. She did a double take, turning around to look at me after hearing my voice. 

“Nicole! My goodness, I didn’t recognize you. Your hair!” She said, staring at my flaming red head. 

“Yeah, I dyed it with Waverly this weekend. You should see Waverly’s hair, she went black and it looks great.” 

“Well, yours is quite the change. What are you doing here so early?” She asked.

“Yeah, um. I thought I would go over the lighting for the second act’s staging.” I quickly thought up.

“I have never seen anyone so dedicated to stage crew as you. How’re the backdrops coming along?” She asked.

“We’re finished with most of them. Still building the lair scene, but it’s coming along nicely. You should stop by the art room when you have a chance.”

“Oh, I will, when I have a chance.” She shook her head. “Nicole, you’re good friends with Waverly. I heard about her break up with Champ. Has she said anything to you about her kissing scene in the show. Is she still comfortable going ahead with it?”

The question threw me, I knew Waverly was annoyed with Champ, but she kept insisting that she was ok with the scene during rehearsals. But then I thought back to Saturday in the drug store when she talked about changing the ending of the musical by running off with the phantom. 

“I’m not sure. I know it must be hard for her. I’d ask her. Has Champ said anything to you?”

“No, neither one has said anything. I just want to be sensitive to the reality of the situation. If the kiss is too much, we don’t need to stage it.” Mrs. Mahoney said. “Will you talk to her about it? I think she’d rather talk to a friend than a teacher.”

I smiled back at her. “Sure, I’ll talk to her.”

She thanked me and continued walking down the hall. I disappeared into the production room and collapsed into the chair by the desk. I looked out at the dark stage and fiddled with a couple of the lights. I pressed a series of buttons to light up the middle of the stage and turn on the speakers. 

From the room, I really felt like the phantom hiding away and yet still controlling the play. Maybe I wasn’t teaching Christine to sing, but I was still holding her in the lights and helping her voice to carry throughout the auditorium. The booth acted like my mask and my lair. 

I practiced the lighting sequence for the “Music of the Night” scene and sang along with the staging. I knew my poem wasn’t as beautiful as the song, but I hoped that Waverly would understand the intent behind it. Maybe not, though. 

Suddenly, I was convinced that the poem was complete crap and cursed myself for ever thinking it would be good enough for her. The panic washed over again and I wondered if I could somehow pull it out of her locker before she got to school. Just then, I heard the bell for homeroom ring out. Carpe fucking diem. 

 

Perry, Jeremy and I were sitting at our usual table in the lunchroom when Waverly bounded up to us. I couldn’t help but notice all the eyes watching her, because of her hair, I was sure.

“Hey guys, you’ll never guess what happened to me today.” She said.

Perry looked up at her, “What?”

I flipped my mystery meat patty over; I didn’t trust myself to look at her. I had a good guess what she was about to say.

“Someone left a love poem for me in my locker. I found it this morning.” She held out the folded, white piece of paper.

“Who?” Asked Jeremy, deeply interested.

“I don’t know, it’s printed out and doesn’t have a name on it.” Said Waverly.

Perry scrunched up his face in disgust. “Really? And you don’t know who it is? Can anyone say stalker?”

“It’s actually really beautiful. Here, take a look.” She handed the poem to Jeremy so that he could read it. As he read through the poem and then handed it off to Perry to read, Waverly turned to me. “You didn’t see anyone near my locker this morning, did you?”

I watched Perry’s face as he read the poem. He was trying to hold back a laugh. “Ah, no.” I looked over at Waverly, trying to keep my face straight. “I didn’t see anyone.”

Waverly’s face fell into a frown. “Shoot, I was hoping that you would have seen who left it. Have you seen anyone hanging around our lockers recently? Whoever it was would have to know which one was my locker.” She said.

“Do you know the poem is for you?” I asked, as Perry handed the poem to me. Of course, I knew it was. I typed her name at the top. I was hoping my “ignorance” would cover up any suspicions that it was from me.

I looked down at the poem. I really didn’t want to read it again. I had the thing practically memorized. But there’s a funny thing about reading your own work on paper, having it stare back at you. It looks like crap and you quickly start second guessing yourself. I looked at the paper long enough for what I assumed it would take me to read through it for the first time.

“Huh. What do you think?” I asked Waverly as I handed the paper back to her.

“I think it’s sweet, but a little weird that the writer didn’t want to leave his name.” She said.

His. I fucking hated that word.

“Maybe he’s afraid of what you’ll think.” I said back, flatly.

“But he isn’t even giving me a chance to say anything back. You don’t think it’s from Champ, do you?” She asked.

“No way.” All three of us chorused together. I was glad that Jeremy and Perry both held the same high esteem for Champ.

“I wonder if it’s from someone in the play? It sounds like it, right?” Said Waverly.

“It could be. What about that Tucker kid?” Asked Perry, he turned to face me. “You know, the one on stage crew.” He looked back at Waverly concerned. “He’s always watching you from back stage. He’s definitely a little creepy.”

My interest was piqued. How did I not notice someone else watching Waverly. From my own stage crew no less. I’d have to make sure that runt was working on projects in the back room from now on. 

“Tucker’s harmless.” Waverly waved off Perry’s concern. “But I guess it could be him. That’s awfully sweet of him, if it is.” 

That’s it, the boy was never leaving the back room again if I could help it. He was immediately being promoted to head painter. He could spend the rest of his damn high school career in the art room.

“I don’t think it’s him,” I chimed in. “Perry’s right, he’s a little creepy, I don’t see him writing a love poem. I see him getting arrested for being a peeping tom.” 

“Nicole! That’s a terrible thing to say.” Waverly pointed at me. I heard Perry snicker. “And you!” She pointed at Perry. He, at least, had the decency to look abashed. 

I just laughed and said, “Come on, he totally looks like what you’d think a peeping tom would look like.”

Waverly gave me a pointed look.

Then Jeremy added, “Instead of Future Business Leaders of America, he could join Future Skanks of America. They should have a yearbook page for that. It’d be popular here.” I laughed out loud and quickly covered my mouth as I saw Waverly glower at me, then Perry and Jeremy joined me.

“You’re all hopeless.” She shook her head, trying to cover up her own giggle. 

“I’m so glad I tried out for the play.” Laughed Perry. “I love hanging out with you all.” 

“Why do you say that?” Waverly asked, nudging his arm.

“I don’t know, we can talk about whatever. I feel like I’m finally more than just a science geek. I can sit around making fun of other kids like a normal person.”

“First of all,” Waverly started in a lecture tone, “you are normal, and second, you shouldn’t be making fun of other people. None of you should.” She looked around the table at all of us. I bit my lips to hide my giggle.

“Third, we still need to figure out who wrote the poem.” She cleared her throat. “Ok, if it’s not him, who else likes me?”

I immediately looked over at Jeremy and hoped my panic wasn’t as obvious as what I felt. But I could see it in his eyes. I jumped up from the table, grabbed my tray, and said I needed to hit my locker before the start of next period. I quickly walked out of the lunchroom, dropping off my tray, before Jeremy could look at me any harder.

 

Jeremy followed me out into the hall. He grabbed my arm and spun me around.

“What the hell, Jeremy?”

“You wrote it, didn’t you?” He said firmly. His look leveled me.

“No?” I shook my head.

“Dude!” 

“Don’t dude me.” I retorted.

“DUDE!” He yelled.

Fuck. “Yes, ok. Yes.” I had dropped my voice down to a hoarse whisper. “I wrote it.” I said through tightened lips.

“I knew it.” And then a huge grin grew across his face. “Man, you have it bad, don’t you.” He nodded his head in approval of his own brilliance.

“Fuck off.” I came back, only his grin grew impossibly wider.

“No, don’t you see. This is perfect. You can let Waverly know how you feel, she already said she likes the poem. I’ll help you figure out how.” He said.

“How’s that?” I scowled.

“I’m not sure, but I bet we can come up with something. After rehearsal, I’ll meet you in the production booth, we’ll hash out a plan. Trust me, it’ll be great. We’ll figure this out.” He patted me on the shoulder. Just then Waverly walked out of the lunchroom. Jeremy winked before walking off. I kept my scowl in place.

Waverly walked up to me. “What’s wrong? Were you two talking about the poem?” She asked. “Oh my God, did Jeremy write it?” Her eyes went wide and her hands shot up to cover her mouth in shock.

“No! Come on.” I shook my head, then I thought about what Jeremy said. We could use this. “He better not.” I added, quickly. 

Waverly rubbed my arm, “I’m sure it wasn’t him. He’s too nice to do something like that. Now Champ on the other hand...”

“You honestly think Champ could have written that poem.” I said, disgusted. “The guy can barely put a real sentence together, let alone write a poem.”

“I know, but he has been bugging me to get back together. I guess things didn’t work out with Stephanie.” She said. “Maybe this is his way of trying to show me his true feelings.”

The only feelings that man cares for are on his jock, I thought. “Not likely.” I muttered.

“Hey, Champ can be sweet and sensitive, too.” Waverly shot back at me.

Why the hell was she still standing up for Champ? “The only thing sensitive about him are his condoms.” I spat back. None of this was going the way I planned, and fuck it all. I didn’t want to care anymore. I stormed off to my locker.

“Hey, why are you yelling at me.” Waverly marched right behind me.

“Because.”

“Because why? Stop it, Nicole. I’m not doing this again.” She grabbed my arm. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Her hazel eyes pierced me. I felt my resolve break down, and I said the first thing that came to my mind.

“I’m thinking about breaking up with Jeremy.” I looked down at the tile floor.

“What! Why?” She held my arm in her tight grip. Her eyes were worried, now. Instantly, she switched from anger to sympathy and it tore away at my gut. I wanted it to be real, my whole relationship with her felt like a fraud, but I wanted her look of concern for me to be real, not based on a lie. I couldn’t respond, I dropped my eyes. “Nicole, I’m so sorry. What happened?” She pulled me into a hug. I wanted to enjoy the contact, but it was just another lie. Her sweetness turned to ash in my mouth.

“It’s nothing. It’s just not working out.” I mumbled. 

“Bullshit,” She said, pushing away from me, “There has to be a reason.”

“Waverly, I need to be alone right now.” I groaned and kept walking to my locker, forgetting that hers was right next to mine. 

“I’m going to kick his ass.” She said under her breath. 

I spun around so fast, “No you won’t. I still care for him. He didn’t do anything, it just didn’t work out, ok? We’re not meant to be together.”

“Is this about you leaving for college?” She asked, still trying to understand.

“It’s nothing. Just let it go. We’re still friends, I just don’t want to date him anymore. OK?” I said.

“That doesn’t make any sense.” She shook her head.

Of course not, none of it made any sense. The whole damn relationship didn’t make sense. Frankly, I was surprised that anyone believed it in the first place.

“Just leave it alone.” I urged. “I haven’t said anything to Jeremy yet. I want to let him down easy, I don’t want to hurt him.”

“Fine.” She retorted.

“Fine.” 

I left her standing in the hallway. When I got to my locker, I couldn’t help but bang my head against the metal door. Why was this so hard?

 

After school, I regrouped in the production room. I heard a knock on the door and was relieved to see Jeremy standing there.

“Hey, what do you need me to do?” He asked.

I thought about all the different pieces of the sets that still needed to come together. I thought about sequestering Tucker to the art room. And I thought about my argument with Waverly.

“Oh hey, Jer. I may have told Waverly that I was thinking about breaking up with you.” I admitted. I didn’t want to take the chance that Waverly might still try to confront him.

“You’re dumping me?” He looked honestly taken aback.

“Jeremy. I panicked and didn’t know what to say. She kept bugging me in the hall after lunch and wondering why I was upset. I couldn’t tell her the truth.” I said, hurriedly. 

“And what was the truth?” He asked.

I glowered at him, crossing my arms. “That the poem was mine and she thought it was from Champ.” 

‘Oh, right.” He said. “Well, ultimately, if you are going to tell Waverly that the poem is yours, we’ll have to “break up” anyway. Are you able to stay late after rehearsal? Maybe we can talk it through. Oh, and by the way, my mom is in love with you.”

I choked on my spit. 

“She wants to do your makeup for prom. I guess if we’re still going together by then.” He said wistfully. “Can we postpone the breakup until after prom? I think my mom is looking forward to this more than I am.”

“Will she do your makeup, too?” I asked.

“Maybe. She thought it looked nice. I think she was surprised how much older I looked with it on.”

“You know, your mom is pretty cool. She handled the whole makeup thing like it was nothing. I think whenever you do come out to her, she’s going to be ok with it.”

“You think so?” He asked, hopefully.

“Yeah, I do. Now, can you supervise the construction of the final lair pieces, and make sure Tucker is stuck in the art room painting all afternoon.”

Jeremy winked and walked out of the production booth. I smiled after him. He really was a great boyfriend.

 

About midway through the rehearsal, Mrs. Mahoney asked me to join her in the audience. I quickly found my way down to the front row of seat where she was sitting.

“Nicole, did you have a chance to talk to Waverly yet?” She asked.

Oh crap, I totally forgot that she wanted me to ask Waverly about the kiss.

“I was going to stage that scene and I need to know if the kiss is a go or no-go.”

“I’m sorry, I haven’t, but I can ask her right now.” I admitted.

“Thanks. I really need to know if she’s still comfortable with it.” Mrs. Mahoney said.

I looked up and found Waverly sitting off stage, reading through some lines. I jogged up on stage and walked back to her.

“Hey Wave? Can I talk to you for a minute?” I asked. 

Waverly looked up at me, and her face took on the look of concern again.

“This isn’t about Jeremy. Mrs. Mahoney wanted me to ask you something.” I clarified. Just then Champ walked up to us.

“Babe, you know it’s our big scene next. I was hoping to practice a bit.” He wore a wide, charming smile.

“Actually, I need to talk to Waverly for a minute.” I looked down at her. “Do you want to go to the production booth?” I asked.

“Sure.” She huffed out. I couldn’t tell if she was annoyed with me or Champ.

We walked back to the booth and I closed the door behind us.

“So what’s up?” She asked me.

“Mrs. Mahoney wants to know if you’re still comfortable with the kiss? She heard about you and Champ breaking up and wasn’t sure if you were still ok with doing the stage kiss.” I said.

“Would she cut it out if I said no?” Waverly asked.

“I think so. I think that’s why she’s asking.”

“That’s pretty cool of her.” Waverly said, tilting her head to the side. “Did you put her up to this?” She asked.

“No!” I started. “She brought it up on her own.”

Waverly let out a deep breath. “I really like her. She’s a great teacher.”

And she has huge... I mean, “Yeah. She is.” I agreed.

“It’s ok. You can tell her I’m ok with the kiss. What’s one more kiss with Champ.” She smiled at me. “Oh, and I asked Champ about the poem and he said ‘what fucking poem.’ So I guess I have my answer to that question.” She looked at me.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

She sat watching me for a few more seconds. I had no idea what to say, but it felt like she was performing legilimency on me and pulling the admission that the poem was mine from my head. 

“I think I need to go see Mrs. Mahoney and let her know about the kiss. You’re absolutely positive about it, last chance to get out of it.” I said.

“Nope, I’m ok. Thanks, though.” And she got up to leave the booth.

 

After rehearsal, Jeremy found me in the booth. I was shutting down all the sound equipment and lights. The rest of the students were gone and only Mrs. Mahoney was packing up in the auditorium. 

“Hey there, sexy.” He greeted me.

“Hi Jeremy.” I smiled up at him. “How did the lair come along today?” I asked.

“It went well. I think it should be done tomorrow. Doc gave it the mustache snuffle of approval.” He leaned on the counter and looked out over the now empty auditorium. 

A knock came on the booth door, and Mrs. Mahoney opened it. “Nicole, I just want to let you know that I’m done. You can shut down all the lights.” She looked over at Jeremy. “You two should really get out of here, too. I don’t want you staying too late.”

“Thanks Mrs. Mahoney. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I said.

“Good night.” And she closed the door behind her. 

“You know, the empty auditorium looks kinda spooky.” Said Jeremy, still looking out at the stage. 

“Actually, I really like it.” I switched off all the house lights so that the stage and auditorium were only faintly lighted by the safety lights. “Come on, I want to show you something.” I took Jeremy’s hand and led him out of the booth and around to the entrance of the auditorium. 

I let go of Jeremy’s hand and opened the door. “Check it out. It’s actually really cool when it’s totally empty.” I led Jeremy down to the stage. 

All the set pieces were pushed back into the wings and only the heavy red backdrop curtain stretched out across the stage. The black flooring seemed to absorb some of the sound of our footsteps as we walked across the bare stage. The stage and auditorium swallowed the normal sounds of life and left a heavy feeling in the air, almost a vacuum. 

“Wow.” Jeremy said softly, looking all around him. 

“I know, right. It’s really cool. I love it here when I’m all alone. It sort of feels like I’m underwater, like I’m in this protective bubble. It’s just me and my thoughts. And anything is possible.” I sat down on the middle of the stage facing the audience. Jeremy sat down next to me.

“Speaking of anything being possible, have you thought about how you’d like to tell Waverly that the poem is yours?” He asked me.

I knew the question was coming, but I still didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I can. It kinda took everything I have just to sneak it into her locker.”

“Sure. But now that you know she likes it, don’t you want to tell her?”

Of course I did, I knew I did, just as I knew there was no way in hell I had the courage to really do it.

“Jeremy, I’m terrified. What if she hates me. Just because she likes the poem doesn’t mean she’ll like knowing I wrote it.” I let out a long breath. I liked talking on the stage, the walls absorbed my words almost as soon as they left my mouth. It felt safer there, less real. 

“I don’t think she’ll hate you. She can’t even hate Tucker Gardner.”

I let out a pent up laugh. “You’re right. What is up with that kid?” I asked.

“I know, total creep. He was really pissed when I told him he was supposed to paint the sets today.” 

That made me smile. In some small way, I felt like I could protect Waverly. I really was the Phantom, pulling my strings to care for Christine. 

“So if you did tell her, where would you like to do it? At your home?” Jeremy asked.

I quickly thought about sitting with Waverly on my bed, telling her that I liked her. But that felt instantly wrong because if she didn’t like me back, she’d probably feel really weird being trapped in my room. No, I needed some place more neutral, somewhere she’d be comfortable just getting up and walking away if she needed to. 

Then I thought back to the playground. Sitting on the swings late at night, just the two of us. That was a possibility. 

“What if you did it here? You already said that it feels like anything can be possible here.” Jeremy suggested.

I looked around the space and knew he was right. If I was going to do it, I wanted to do it here. This was a safe space, I hoped for both of us. And it wasn’t weather dependent. 

“Yeah, I think I’d like to do it here.” The words felt enormous in my mouth, but burst like a bubble in the air. Was I really going to do this? My hands began to shake.

“Ok, so we just need to find a way to get the two of you alone here. That shouldn’t be too hard, right. Just ask her to stay late after rehearsal.” He said.

Suddenly, the reality of actually telling her came crashing down, and I felt a panic rising in my chest.

“No!” I said firmly. 

“No?” 

“I’m not ready.”

“Ok. So when you are, just let me know and I’m here for you.” He placed a hand on my shoulder. I smiled back at him.

“But now I need to head out, I have a ton of work to do tonight.” He continued. 

“Thanks Jeremy.”

“No problem.” He said as we both stood up to walk out.

 

That night, I couldn’t focus on my homework at all. I needed to find an outlet for all the pent up energy from talking about my feelings. I considered going for a run, but the night was much colder than I would like. I sat at my desk, knee jumping, my whole body humming. I pulled out my notebook, the one in which I worked out my first poem, and turned to a new page. I couldn’t stop thinking about Waverly in my bed, turning to look at me and her breast slowly rising up out of her bra. The image almost choked me. The want was flooding me. So I closed my eyes and began writing. I didn’t need to look at the page, I used the feel of the paper under my fingers to guide my writing. The truth falling from my pen was too heavy to look at it. It was enough that it was there, the physicality of ink on paper. It was real.

Moon Rising

Your breast is the moon rising  
The delicate white curve  
Lifting the tides of my blood  
I feel you pull on me

Your body calls to me  
Like the moon calls to the ocean wave  
Your breast draws my eyes  
I cannot look away

Your beauty overwhelms me  
My thoughts always circle you  
Wanting to pull you in  
Ever pressing, ever pushing 

You are the gravity I feel  
The moon’s magnetic pull  
On my blood, on my eyes, on my thoughts  
I cannot escape this orbit

 

I read and reread the poem. I liked it, I really liked it, but I couldn’t figure out how to end it. I sat back in my chair, my back aching, my neck tense. I read the poem again and realized that I couldn’t end the poem because I didn’t know my own ending. I didn’t know how Waverly would react. Would this be my epic supernova or the birth of a new universe? I didn’t know the ending, yet. So I left it unfinished. I printed up the poem, resolved to slip it into Waverly’s locker the next day. Somehow, it seemed easier this time around.

 

At lunch the next day, Waverly was already sitting with Perry, when Jeremy and I joined them. They’re heads were bowed down together, looking at something in Waverly’s lap. I sat across the table from Waverly. Both she and Perry jerked their heads up as if caught red-handed. 

“Hey guys.” I said looking between them. Jeremy sat between Waverly and me. “What are you looking at? You better not be watching porn in school, there are rules about that.” 

Perry laughed, but Waverly’s face went so bright red I was afraid she might pass out. “Are you watching porn?” I prodded.

“No!” Waverly hissed, looking over her shoulder. Perry continued to laugh. “I’ll have you know that I received another poem this morning.” She looked back at me. “Are you sure you haven’t seen anyone around our lockers?”

I shook my head. “Sorry. But I’ll keep an eye out. When do you get them?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Jeremy joined in, “maybe we could set up a stake out, watch your locker.” 

I winked at him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. 

“That’s ok,” Waverly laughed. “Besides they’re always in my locker first thing in the morning.” 

“Wait, have there been others?” I quickly asked. 

“No, just these two.” She held up the second poem. I held out my hand, asking for permission to read the poem. Waverly handed the poem over and Jeremy leaned into me to read the poem as I held it. Yep, I was a lot more proud of this one. I could read it without cringing. 

“Wow. That’s pretty hot.” Jeremy said. My eyes shot open and I gave his leg a firm squeeze under the table. I wasn’t sure if he intended the double entendre, but I wanted to put a stop to it quickly. He cleared his throat before taking the poem from me and handing it back to Waverly.

“What do you think, Waverly?” Asked Perry.

“I really wish I knew who was writing these.” She replied.

“Exactly, I mean he’s writing about checking out your breasts.” Perry said.

“Well sort of.” She said.

“I mean, this doesn’t bother you? What if I said I wrote those poems, what would you think? Wouldn’t it be a little weird knowing I’m writing about your breasts?” Perry asked.

“Did you write them?” She turned to face Perry.

“I’m not saying that, but what if I did...”

“I don’t know. I just think it’s really flattering. I’ve never been the subject of a love poem before.” Her thoughts seemed to turn inward and she flashed a private smile. 

Jeremy gave me a questioning look. 

“So, how do you want to go about figuring this out?” I asked Waverly. This broke her out of her reverie. 

“I’m not sure. I’m not sure I can.” She said quietly.

We continued to discuss the dilemma of the anonymous writer over lunch, and as we all rose to head back to class, Waverly grabbed my arm to hold me back a bit. 

When we were sufficiently on our own, Waverly leaned into me. “So things seem better between you and Jeremy today.” She looked up at me.

“Oh, well. I guess.” 

“Did you guys talk last night?” She asked.

“Yes and no. We talked, but not really about us.” I answered. 

“But everything IS ok?” She seemed so concerned about my relationship with Jeremy.

“Yeah, for now. It’s ok.” I said.

“Ok, good. You had me worried yesterday.” She gave my arm another quick squeeze. “I’ll see you at rehearsal, right?”

“Of course.” I watched her walk off down the hall, my heart walking away with her.

 

 

Friday night, I heard my phone ringing and quickly answered it when I saw it was Waverly calling. 

“What are you up to tonight?” She asked. 

I was sitting in my room, trying to inspire myself to write a new poem for Waverly. She actually seemed a little disappointed that she didn’t receive any new poems during the week. I didn’t want to let her down, but between play practice and homework, I had no time to do any writing. We were in the final two weeks of rehearsals before the show. This was perfection time. We were done with staging and scene creation, this was about getting everything right. It took all of my concentration to make sure I was on top of my game. I wasn’t about to let Waverly down on stage by missing a cue or fucking up her lighting. This was my chance to really make her shine. 

“Not much,” I replied. “What’s up with you?”

“I’m bored. I miss hanging out with you, it seems like we’re both so busy right now, we never get to talk. Like talk-talk. I had a lot of fun at our pizza and movie night.” She paused a couple seconds. “Do you want to hang out?” 

It took me all of a millisecond to decide. “Sure. What did you have in mind?” I asked.

“I guess I’m feeling restless. What are you up for?” 

“Well, do you remember the playground I took you to after Chrissy’s party?” I said.

“Vaguely. I was pretty drunk that night.” She giggled.

“Do you want to go back? I don’t think it’s too cold out tonight, I find it’s a great place to just hang out and talk.” I said.

“That sounds great. Where is it?” She asked.

“How about I pick you up in fifteen minutes, I’ll drive.”

“Oooh, that reminds me, I have some tapes that Aunt Gus is letting me borrow. Now we don’t have to listen to your sad cowboy music.” She said brightly.

“Hey! It’s not all sad cowboy music.” I said, a little hurt.

“Oh please, Nicole. It’s ALL sad, cowboy music. There’s a time and a place for that, but it’s not tonight, not if I’m riding in the truck.” She said. “You bring the truck, I’ll bring the music.”

“Whatever, I’m reserving judgment until I see what you have.” I said back, already pulling a few things together in my backpack. “I’ll see you in fifteen.”

“Great, see you then.” I heard her smile right through the phone. 

 

When I pulled into Waverly’s driveway, I saw her open the door and practically skip down the walkway in a flowing dress. I secretly thanked my foresight to grab two sweaters on my way out the door, just in case she got cold. She opened the truck door and jumped up into the cab. She slammed the door shut, sliding over to sit a little closer to me on the bench seat.

“So Aunt Gus used to play this album all the time. It’s super cool.” She held out the well worn case to me and I picked it up. 

Turning it over in my hands, I surveyed the image of several red roses with one white rose. Concrete Blonde: Bloodletting. I looked up at Waverly skeptically. 

“Trust me.” She said, taking the cassette out of my hand. She popped it in the player and started to fast forward to the end of the side, stopping to test it every few seconds. When she got the tape to the right spot she started to play the album.

A song began with a chord and drums. “Joey.” The music seeped into the night air of the cab, and I immediately knew Waverly was right. This was perfect for the evening. Deliciously dark and sensual, this was music of the night. My mind wrapped around the melody, connecting with it like I’d known it my whole life.

With the mood set, we drove out to the playground. 

 

I pulled over next to the playground. We both hopped out of the truck and I grabbed my backpack from the bed. We walked over to the swing set and I set the pack down on the ground. Waverly sat down on a swing and I chose the one right next to her. We both swayed side to side until our swings bumped hip to hip. Waverly giggled at me and looked around the darkened playground.

“This is really cool. I can’t believe I was so drunk I forgot about this.” Waverly said wistfully.

“Can you believe that I used to come here with Stephanie Jones in 6th grade. This was our hangout spot.” I said to the night air.

“No way. You and Stephanie were friends? What happened?” Waverly spun in her swing to face me.

“Boys.” I said and Waverly laughed.

“Was there one particular boy who came between you?” She asked.

“No, pretty much every single one.” I said, tilting my head to the side, considering my answer. I looked over at Waverly and she wore a wide, bright smile. I couldn’t help but smile back. Her look lingered before she allowed her swing to untwist. 

“So, how are things between you and Jeremy? I mean really. Just between you and me.” Waverly asked.

I let out a deep breath. I wondered if this was going to come up. “Ok.” I stopped for a moment. “And before you say anything,” I paused to look at her and laughed when I saw her mouth was already open to respond. She closed her lips and nodded at me. “I really like him. A lot. He’s my best friend.” I looked down at the mulch pile at my feet. “But I don’t think he’s the one. I think we’re better as friends, just friends. That’s why I said I was thinking about breaking up with him.”

“Are you enjoying his company?” Waverly asked. I couldn’t tell if she meant it, but I felt the weight of a second meaning in her words.

“What do you mean, like hanging out or having sex?” I asked.

“Either? Both?” She asked.

I sighed. “We’re not having sex, if that’s what you want to know.” I looked back at her. She nodded her head in acceptance. 

“Have you ever had sex?” She asked quietly.

“No.” I wasn’t ashamed to admit it. “I’m willing to wait until it’s right. I’ve never felt the need to have sex just to say I have.” 

“I thought Champ was the right person. And for a while it seemed like he was, but then he wasn’t. Even before he cheated, it felt off, like all he cared about was having sex. We used to do all this stuff together. I loved spending time with him, but then our time together was just about finding places where we could be alone.”

“Boys.” I said under my breath.

“But Jeremy isn’t like that.” She looked at me.

No, he wasn’t. “You’re right. He’s really great.”

“That’s why I don’t understand your hesitancy. Do you find him attractive?” She was looking at me so keenly, I felt the immediate panic rise up. I couldn’t fake this answer.

“Not really. I mean, I know he’s attractive; he’s really handsome, but I guess I don’t feel it.” I responded.

“Who are you attracted to?”

I stared off into space, watching a cloud bank slowly shift across the face of the moon. Was there a way to get out of this question? I really wanted to be here; I wanted to spend time with her, I just wasn’t ready for this question.

“It’s ok.” She shook her head, dismissing the question. “I’m getting a little cold.” She ran her hands up and down her arms. 

“I have a sweater in my bag, if you want it.” I said, standing up to get the bag.

“Sure.” Her eyes followed me.

I pulled out one of the sweaters and handed it to Waverly. She pulled it on over her head. It was way too big for her, so it hung casually around her hips on the swing. She rolled up her sleeves and I pulled on the second sweater over my own head.

“Do you want to sit in the slide?” There was a large plastic tube that fed into the slide for kids to climb through. “It might be warmer in there.” I offered.

“That sounds great.” Waverly said, standing up from the swing. 

I crawled in behind Waverly. Since she was so much smaller, she fit more comfortably in the plastic tube. I curled myself up around the circumference of the tube, my head sitting at an odd angle, so that I could sit next to Waverly, facing her. Waverly laughed out loud when she saw the position of my body next to her. 

She placed her hand on my thigh and my body jumped to life. “Why don’t we find somewhere else to sit. It hurts just looking at you.” She said. 

I laughed, too. “Yeah, that might be a good idea. I guess I’m no longer twelve.” I said.

Waverly gave me her sunshine smile and squeezed my thigh gently. I didn’t want to lose this intimacy. I wracked my brain for a place where we could sit and talk that would be warm and comfortable for both of us. My brain took me back to the conversation I had with Jeremy on the stage at school, but I was sure the building would be locked up. 

“Jeremy and I hung out at the school auditorium the other day, it was really cool. I wish I could take you there.” I said.

“Don’t you have the key? Is it only for the production booth, or do you think it works on any of the outside doors, too?” Waverly asked.

“I don’t know. I’m guessing it only works on the production booth.”

“Do you want to try?” 

“Try breaking into the school?” I asked. The idea shocked and kinda thrilled me.

“Yeah. I mean, it can’t hurt to try, right? They gave you the key, they must assume that you’ll use it.” She smiled a little wickedly at me. 

Brain: This is a really terrible idea.

Heart: But Waverly wants to try.

Brain: It’s not just bad, but also illegal.

Heart: Look at her eyes. 

Brain: We could be expelled a couple months before graduating.

Heart: Her hand is on our thigh.

Thigh: Go for it!

Brain: Am I the only grownup here?

Thigh: Go, go, go!

Waverly pushed me back so that she could crawl over me to start climbing out.

Brain: Shit.

Heart: Hold my beer.

 

I drove us over to the high school. I still couldn’t believe I was doing this. Waverly was the only person in the entire world who could convince me to do something like this.

There were only a couple lights on over the senior’s parking lot at the school and the moon was clouded over. The night felt even colder and darker than at the playground. My hands were shaking and my heart was racing. Waverly grabbed my arm, hugging me to her as she started to walk to the side entrance in an exaggerated creeping walk.

“What are you doing, Waverly?” 

“I’m sneaking into school.” She whispered to me.

“We look like cartoon bad guys.” I whispered back. Waverly snickered. “I think we can just walk normally. It’ll look less suspicious.”

“Well, I’ve never been a criminal before. I don’t know how to do it.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked.

She stopped and looked at me worried. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to make you do something you aren’t comfortable with.” 

“No, it’s not that. I mean, are YOU sure?” I asked.

Waverly’s concerned look broke into a grin as she lightly bit her bottom lip and nodded her head. She giggled and pressed her forehead into my shoulder. I hoped desperately that she couldn’t feel my whole body shaking under her touch. I was drunk on adrenaline. 

“Come on, Haught.” She whispered again and pulled my arm forward.

 

We tried a few doors by the parking lot without any luck, and I could hear my brain thanking the heavens. Waverly suggested that we try the other side of the school by the auditorium. 

As we crossed the long yard in front of the gym, Waverly broke out into a fit of giggles. “I can’t believe we’re actually doing this. This is SO MUCH FUN.” She hissed through her teeth. It hit me that I was having so much fun, too. I felt like a reckless teenager, silly and wild. I wondered if this was what it felt like to get drunk. We snuck up to the back door by the auditorium and I inserted the key into the lock, fully expecting the tumbler to hold fast. To my surprise, the lock turned easily in my hand. My mouth fell open.

I looked at Waverly and she wore an expression of shock and unabated joy. “Oooooh yeah!” She squealed. I tentatively gave the handle a turn and the door opened up. No alarms sounded, no lights flashed. Just the open door swinging lightly into the dark corridor. 

Waverly grabbed my hand and pulled me inside.

She closed the door behind me and we stood in the dark hall running beside the auditorium. The school was silent and eerie. I felt like we just stepped into a bad horror film and was starting to question the decision to break in when I felt Waverly’s hand slip into my own.

“You ok?” She asked.

“Yeah,” I said a little hesitantly. “You?”

“Let’s go check out the auditorium.” She said, pulling me along behind her.

 

When we walked on stage, I stood back to watch Waverly take in the darkened and empty stage. I felt like somehow this was a test of our compatibility. If she felt the same energy filling the air that I did, the same force of possibility, then maybe I could trust her with my feelings. Maybe I could tell her. Maybe this was the chance that Jeremy was hoping to orchestrate. I held my breath and watched her.

She stood in the middle of the stage floor. It’s strange how different she looked just then from the hours she spent during rehearsals. In the dark, she appeared smaller, more fragile. She spun around in a small circle and looked up into the catwalks. The edge of her dress twirled gently with her legs and my sweater sat heavily on her shoulders. I was sure I’d never seen anyone so beautiful, so soft, so easily feminine. And it hurt how much I wanted that. 

I didn’t want to be feminine, I wanted to wrap my arms around it and pull it into me. Femininity had been a mystery to me my whole life. It was a puzzle I never cared to solve, a sport with rules I never bothered to learn. But watching Waverly spin in a lazy circle, every move screaming “girl,” I realized I did want to learn it. I did want to solve it. I didn’t want to be feminine; I wanted to be possessed by the feminine. I wanted to sink into it and care for it. 

Waverly held out her arms, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes. She continued to spin. “Wow. This is incredible. I can’t believe how different it feels in the dark.” She paused her spin and just took in several deep breaths. “It feels kind of sexy.”

The words slipped into me.

“Do you feel it?” She asked softly, opening her eyes and facing me.

Yep.

“Are you ok?” Waverly asked, looking a little more concerned.

“Yeah. Sorry. I was just thinking the same thing.” I said, finding my voice.

“I can totally see why you brought Jeremy here.” She said. 

Wait, what?

Oh, right.

“It makes me think about those poems.” She paused and I nearly choked. “I wish I knew who wrote them.”

“What would you do, if you did know?” I asked.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” She sat down in the middle of the stage cross legged. I walked over and sat behind her, back to back, and leaned against her. I felt her back relax into mine and I gladly accepted her weight. 

“Are you afraid of finding out?” I asked.

“A little. I guess it depends on who it is. I think I’d be a little creeped out if it is Tucker.”

This made me smile. “You don’t need to worry about that.” I said confidently.

“Why, do you know who it is?” She suddenly sat up and turned to face me. I felt my stomach drop out of me.

Oh shit.

“Uh”

“Nicole?” Her gaze leveled me. Her eyes wouldn’t let me go.

“Um”

“Nicole Haught, tell me right now who wrote those poems.” She demanded.

My brain froze. I stared at her, completely petrified. I tried to keep breathing, and then from nowhere I heard my vocal chords make a sound. “Perry.”

“Perry?” Waverly questioned, and I came back to my senses.

“I think. I don’t know.” I said.

Waverly gave me a hard look.

“I saw him by our lockers. I think he put them in there.” I was trying to convince myself as much as Waverly.

“Are you sure?” She asked.

“No. But I think it’s him.” I hated lying to her, but there it was.

“Should I ask him?” She wondered.

“No! I wouldn’t. I mean, not in school. If he wanted to tell you directly, he would have put his name on them, right?” I said.

“What should I do?” She looked at me pleadingly. 

I quickly tried to think up a way to save both me and Perry.

“Why don’t you write him a note, asking him if he wrote the poems. Tell him you want to meet here after rehearsal on Friday when everyone leaves. I’ll talk to him, since I saw him. If he is the one, I’ll give him the note, if not I’ll throw it away and no harm done.” 

“We should just linger around the school on Friday? Won’t we get thrown out? They’re not going to let us just stay here.” Waverly said.

“Ok, then I’ll let you in. I can come by and unlock the back door for you, so you can be here alone, talk in privacy.”

“I don’t know about this.” Waverly shook her head.

“Look, if I’m wrong, he won’t even get the note, he’ll never know about it. But this way, you can have a safe place to meet up. He’d probably appreciate that, I know I would if it was me.” I said.

“You’re sure about this?” Waverly didn’t look convinced.

“I pinky swear, I’ll talk to him and see if he’s the one. If he isn’t, then he won’t know that you suspected him, it will all be on me.”

“I still think I should just text him.” Waverly countered.

“If you do and he denies it, you won’t know if that’s because he really didn’t write them or because he’s too scared to admit it. He’s probably more likely to tell me, especially if I let him know that I saw him around the lockers.” I was in full CYA mode and laying it on thick. 

“Ok, fine. You have a point.” Waverly finally agreed. I let out a deep breath and hoped that poor Perry never found out how close he came to becoming an unwitting poet. 

We schemed out our plan a little longer before leaving the school. Waverly would write the note and give it to me on Monday, and I’d take it from there. I drove her home and after she made it back inside, I downloaded Concrete Blonde to my phone and played it on my drive home, taking an extra long route so that I could listen to the entire album. I used the drive to formulate my own plan, resisting the urge to hold the sweater she had been wearing.

I wasn’t prepared to do it that day, but I made up my mind to let Waverly know how I felt. Jeremy was right, I couldn’t keep hiding it from her. Also, I wanted her to know that the poems were mine. I worked my butt off on them, I poured my soul into them, I wanted her to know that they were from me.

I smiled to myself as I thought about Waverly writing a note to Perry. I had no intention of actually talking to him or giving him the note. He’d never know the part he’d played in this ridiculous caper. Instead, on Friday as Waverly waited for her poet to arrive, I would show up finally ready to be honest with her. 

 

I met up with Waverly at our lockers on Monday morning. She gave me a conspiratorial wink as she handed me the note and I couldn’t help but laugh at her idea of cloak and dagger. I looked down at the note. Written across the entire front in large letters was “Perry.” I slipped the note into my pants pocket and gave her a heavy wink back. Phase one of Mission Tell Waverly was in motion. I took a deep breath and headed for homeroom.

Walking into biology that morning, I spotted Perry. I slipped my hand in my pocket to make sure the note was still safe.

“Hey Nicole, how was your weekend?” Perry asked as I sat down next to him. 

“Decent. Waverly introduced me to an old band her Aunt Gus used to like and now I’m obsessed with them.” I said.

“You and Waverly are hanging out a lot more than you used to.” Perry said.

“Yeah, since she broke up with Champ. It’s been great.”

I pulled my hand out of my pocket and inadvertently brought the note out with it. Before I could register what had happened, the note fell on the floor between our desks. It landed face side up, because of course it would. There, in Waverly’s beautiful handwriting, was the word “Perry” written out, larger than life and ready to ruin mine. 

My eyes boggled as I took in the situation. Perry looked down between the desks and then up at me.

“What’s that?” He asked.

Uh, for a different Perry?

He leaned down to pick it up and I jumped into action.

“Perry, wait. I need to explain.” I said quickly as he lifted the note.

“Is this from Waverly?” He asked, turning it over.

“Yes, but I need to explain. We were talking about the poems and trying to figure out who wrote them. We might have speculated that it was you.” I cringed as I said this.

“You think I wrote those poems?” He looked questioningly at me.

“Waverly does.” I was wringing my hands and wondering just how deep this hole was getting. “So I told her that I’d ask you if you wrote them and give you the note if you did.”

“Oh, cool.” He said, slipping the note into his pocket. 

Wait, he wasn’t supposed to keep the note. By then, the teacher stood up and cleared his throat and I had to drop the conversation.

I was completely distracted all through biology class, trying to figure out a plausible way to ask for the note back, but nothing, short of admitting the truth, sounded reasonable. My only solace was that I knew Perry didn’t write the poems and the purpose of the meeting was for Waverly to meet her poet. He’d hopefully laugh it off as a case of mistaken identity and forget the whole thing.

 

The week passed with a slightly awkward tension between Waverly and Perry. I had confessed to Waverly that I accidentally gave the note to Perry, and her response was that she’d wait to see if he’d show up for the meeting. Until then, it was the final week of rehearsals, and we were all consumed by the long schedule and last minute details. 

I thought the buzz about Waverly and Champ’s kiss would have died down by then, but if anything it was only ramping up. With both Champ and Waverly now single, the speculation in the halls was that they would end up back together again because of the show. 

But I knew better. Waverly was far too nice to say anything mean about Champ to anyone else, but during breaks in rehearsal, Waverly would hide away with me in the production booth and bitch. I loved seeing this side of her. She never let down her guard like this in public, so I felt overwhelmingly privileged that she trusted me with “judgy” Waverly. 

After Friday’s rehearsal, Waverly slipped into the booth.

“So, today’s the big day!” She said with an excited squeak. 

“Yep, you ready?” I asked, I could feel the nerves start to race up and down my spine. This was my big day, too. I had prepared how I would walk out on the stage to meet her that night, what I would say when she asked why I was there. I thought about how I would handle it if she just wanted to be friends. I didn’t let myself think too much about what I would do if she wanted something more.

“So, you’ll meet me here at nine to unlock the door, and then I’ll wait on the stage to see if Perry shows up. We talk: blah, blah, blah. And then I’ll know.” She let out a deep sigh.

“Do you hope Perry shows?” I asked.

“Yes and no. I’d like to know just so I can be done with it. And Perry’s really nice. But, I don’t know. I guess it’s like you and Jeremy. I don’t know if I really feel it.”

I nodded my head.

“But he’d probably make a far better boyfriend than Champ.” She continued.

Again, I nodded my head. I couldn’t really argue with that, anyone would make a better partner than Champ.

“Alright, I better head out. I need some time to get ready.” She rose from her chair and faced me. “See you at nine?”

“You bet.” I said.

She stopped and looked at me sort of quizzically. “You know, you are really awesome. I’m so glad we’ve become better friends. I feel like I can tell you anything and you’re always here to support me. I’ve never had a friend like that. Not even Chrissy.” She flashed a sunshine smile. “You’re going to make someone ridiculously happy one day, even if it isn’t Jeremy. I’m actually a little jealous.” She said as she started to walk out the door. She gave me a half wave and disappeared down the hall. 

Hopefully in a few hours, she’d know she had no reason to feel jealous at all. I’d give her anything, everything.

 

 

That night I found Waverly waiting for me by the back door outside the school building. She was a little early, as was I. She gave me a bright smile as I stepped up to the door to unlock it. 

She placed her hand on my shoulder. “I really appreciate you doing all this for me.”

I looked at her, “of course.”

“You look really nice.” She said, running her hand down my arm. “Hot date tonight?”

“Something like that.” I smiled at my own confidence. I picked the outfit to give me the most courage. I chose the dark blue button down because it looked nice with my red hair, and sleek black slacks that hugged my butt just right. I was nervous, but ready.

“Well, you look great, but you should undo the top two buttons.” She reached up and started to unbutton my shirt. I bit my cheek and resisted to urge to just tell her right then. I wanted to do this right, and that meant on the stage. I could be patient.

 

 

Waverly stood alone in the middle of the school’s softly lit stage. The auditorium was silent and empty, as was the school at this time of night. I had slipped into the school behind Waverly to pulled myself together in the production room. While in there, I turned on the sound system in the production booth, and sat and watched her. 

Just then a tall figure stepped out from back stage and began walking toward Waverly. I rose and cursed under my breath. I forgot to relock the back door.

“Perry,” Waverly spoke softly. “You were the one writing those poems?” Waverly sat down on the floor of the stage, right in the middle, just under the permanent microphone. Her soft voice lifting up and into the recording device, where it rained down upon me from the dark production booth speakers. 

No, I thought. I was the one who wrote those. Those poems were mine. 

Anger rose in my chest as I watched Perry nod acceptance of MY work. 

“They’re beautiful.” Waverly said. She held out a hand to him and he joined her in the middle of the stage. They sat down facing each other. 

I was fascinated and disgusted at once. I was Perry, I should have been Perry. What was happening to him, was really meant for me. 

I watched the two figures on the stage as if I was watching myself. 

“Where did you learn how to write like that?” Waverly asked.

Yes, Perry. Where DID you learn how to write. Because I know. I know where I nearly drowned myself in poetry so that I could create one fit for her.

“I don’t know. I guess they just come to me.” Said Perry, the gentleness of his voice masking his lie.

“Well, they’re amazing. They made me feel so beautiful. Really, I’ve never read anything like them before.” Waverly’s word slipped into me. She was talking about me, my words touching her. She was speaking to me.

“Yeah, I’m glad you liked them. I hoped you would.” Perry’s voice cut off my thought. 

“My favorite was the one about my breasts. I felt like you could see right through my shirt. It was like the poem was touching me, and it was so sexy.” Waverly shifted a little closer to Perry’s folded legs. He sat up a little taller and looked unsure.

My grip on the booth’s counter tightened. She only moved a few inches closer, but it felt like a gravitational shift in momentum. 

“You wrote such a beautiful poem about them, would you like to see them for real?” Waverly said, teasingly.

Perry and I both were motionless, dumbfounded.

Waverly placed her hands on the bottom of her sweater and began to lift slowly, revealing a strip of her torso. Waverly wasn’t just lifting her shirt, but also my blood pressure, my heat, my heart rate. My pulse shocked my ears.

Her sweater hit the floor in a pool of soft fabric. Her narrow arms gracefully lifted her hair back, then let it cascade down her shoulders to fully reveal the creamy bra and delicate skin of her torso. 

Seeing her from afar, she was more exquisite than I remembered. My poem was nothing compared to her. 

Her delicate fingers reached around the wire under the bra and paused. She was watching Perry intently, gauging his reaction, calculating the exact moment to raise her hands up. She wasn’t just showing herself, this was a dance, a torturous ballet, and he was not worthy. This was MINE.

I slammed my fists down onto the counter and yelled, “NO!” 

Then I dropped to the floor, horrified. I couldn’t look. I couldn’t watch Perry receive my prize. 

“What was that?” Waverly’s quick voice responded, then a shuffling noise. A cold chill ran down me. I thought the glass in the booth was soundproof, but if they heard my reaction and came looking, they would know I had been watching them. Panic set in.

“Let’s get out of here.” Perry’s voice fell from the speaker, then footsteps retreated and the speaker was silent.

I curled into a ball on the cold, production booth floor and shook: overwhelming rage for Perry, suffocating desire for Waverly, and a new feeling. A new seed planted in this garden of emotions, just unfurling itself to the light of day: shame.


	4. Act IV

Act IV:

I was sitting at my desk so long my ass was numb, my fingers cold. The blank page of my journal was too bright. The perfectly lined stretches of blue ink were too organized for my head. It was getting late, the red hue of sunset laughing at me, reminding me that I had wasted the entire day. I had been sitting at my desk since I woke up. I thought my journal would be a comfort, a release valve. But instead it was an interrogator’s lamp shining in my eyes. My fingers rested on the edge of the page. There was nothing. Breathing was enough. I’d never felt the rise and fall of my chest so distinctly, mocking the pain inside. I was burying it. I was digging a hole so deep my feelings couldn’t touch me. 

My dad asked if I was hungry a couple times, speaking through my door. His muffled voice was the only reminder of reality pushed safely away from me. 

I knew I had school to go back to. I had a locker too close to Waverly. I had Biology with Perry. I couldn’t bury myself in the hole I was digging, but it was perfect for my feelings. If I didn’t feel, this all went away. All the torture. I realized that every moment I shared with Waverly was torture for me. I was the phantom; she doesn’t end up with me. The best I can offer is a kidnapping, holding her against her will. 

And above it all, I refused to be that. I refused to be the phantom. I refused to be the bad guy. I refused to be the darkness. The only way I could solve that discord was to turn off my feelings. I wouldn’t feel attraction; I wouldn’t feel hate; I wouldn’t feel hunger; I wouldn’t feel pain. I could make it all go away.

 

Monday morning, I arrived early to school. I wanted to get to my locker before Waverly arrived at school. I emptied it of everything I could possibly need during the day. I took all of my belongings down to the production booth and set up a secondary locker there. Then I sought out Mrs. Mahoney. I had a plan for seeing as little of Waverly as I could during the day. I really didn’t want to hear about her getting together with Perry; it would unbury those emotions I spent the weekend covering up.

I found Mrs. Mahoney in the band room. A large cup of coffee sat on her desk and she looked tired. As I walked into the room, she glanced up at me from the papers on her desk and a warm smile welcomed me in. 

“Nicole, early again? How are you?” She said.

“Yep.” I nodded as I stepped up to her desk. I let out a quick breath and tried to pretend I was fine. “I’m ok. I was just wondering since the show opens tonight, do you want to have lunch together here so we can go over all the details?”

She gave me an inquisitive look. “Sure. I think I’d enjoy that, too. Are you feeling nervous?”

“A little.” I admitted, but not for the reasons she thought. I wasn’t worried about the play. I had it down. I was worried about seeing Waverly and feeling stripped bare. I didn’t even want to see Jeremy. I just wanted to hide for a while from the consequences of my stupid plan.

“That’s totally normal, Nicole. But don’t go beating yourself up. Everyone makes mistakes; it’s how we handle those mistakes that show our true character. So if you miss a cue tonight, just brush it off and move on. You are a strong young woman and you should be proud of what you’ve managed to accomplish.” She said.

“Thanks.” I looked down at my shoes. I didn’t feel strong. In fact, the compliment felt like a slap in the face. I wasn’t strong, otherwise I would have just told Waverly how I felt when we were out there on the stage together. I chickened out, and now I was asking a teacher for an excuse to hide from her. I was a coward.

“So, I’ll see you at lunch?” She asked.

“Yeah, I’ll just bring it down here, if that’s ok.” I said.

“Why don’t you meet me in the auditorium, we can eat there.”

“I thought we weren’t allowed to have food in there.” I questioned.

“I trust you not to make a mess.” She smiled and winked at me. “I think it will be fine.”

That brought a grin to my face. “Ok.” I said. “I’ll meet you in the auditorium.” 

 

As I made my way to homeroom, Jeremy ran up next to me and put his hand on my shoulder. 

“Hey Nicole, I’m glad I found you.” He started, nearly out of breath. “I have a question for you...” he paused and looked at me concerned. “Where have you been, by the way. I know Waverly was also looking for you.”

“Just play stuff, I saw Mrs. Mahoney this morning. We’re going to have lunch together.” I said.

“Oh. Do I need to go, too?” He asked.

“No. I’ll be fine on my own. You don’t need to miss out on lunch as well.” I quickly added. 

“Is everything ok?” He asked, looking at me a little more closely.

Just then the bell for homeroom rang and I muttered an apology before running into the classroom. I was glad I managed to avoid Waverly that morning. I would still see Perry in Biology, but he now felt dead to me. I was less worried about running into him. 

I purposefully walked into Biology a few seconds late, so that I had an excuse not to talk to Perry. He waved at me as I took my seat. I felt the weight of his presence next to me, but I refused to look at him. I’m here to learn about genetics, I repeated over and over in my head. It was the only thought I allowed myself during the entire class.

When class let out, I quickly darted out of the room before Perry had a chance to grab my attention. I had no intention of talking to him, if I could help it. 

I wandered into the auditorium at lunch time. I didn’t bother to grab a lunch for myself. My stomach was in knots. Mrs. Mahoney was already there sitting down in the front row.

When she heard my footsteps, she turned around to face me. “Where’s your lunch, Nicole?” She asked, looking worried.

“I didn’t bring it. I don’t feel hungry right now.” I said, joining her in the row.

“Still feeling nervous about tonight?” She asked. I nodded my head. “You must carry your stress in your stomach. I wish I had that problem. When I get nervous, I eat.” She chuckled to herself and patted her middle. 

I smiled weakly at her, then looked down at my feet.

“So tell me about your plans for next year. You’ll be at Nebraska, correct?” She started.

“Don’t you want to talk about the play?” I asked.

“Not really. I don’t think harping on and on about the one thing you’re worried about will do you any good.” She said with a growing smile.

“Oh.” I said confused.

“What do you plan on studying? Have you already picked a major?” She asked.

“Not really.” I looked up at her. Her warm eyes were so reassuring that I started to feel more relaxed.

“I think that’s for the best, really. I’m always amazed when students have their whole lives seemingly planned out before they even make it to college.” She tilted her head to the side and looked up at the ceiling. “There is so much to experience in college, so much growing you can do. I say try a little of everything. Did you know that when I went to Nebraska, I wanted to be a doctor?” She glanced over at me.

I shook my head, no.

“It’s true. I played flute for the marching band, but I didn’t plan on making it a career. I thought it was a great way to see the football games for free.” She laughed. 

I smiled and let her continue.

“Then I took a music theory class for the heck of it and really had fun with it. I always loved math and science because it was like a big puzzle to solve. I found that music was the same way. Music is very mathematical, and I loved it. It tapped into my creative side as well as my analytical side.” She said.

“I never thought about it like that.” I said.

“But for you, my advice would be: don’t tie yourself down too quickly to a particular major. Explore different classes and areas of study. You might surprise yourself.” 

I considered her words. I hadn’t really thought about what I would major in. I was more concerned with getting out of Purgatory. Primarily, I wanted to explore who I was. I mean, I had a good idea what I wanted to know, but I was looking forward to having the space and freedom to explore the real Nicole Haught. 

Mrs. Mahoney continued, “You’re going to meet all sorts of new people when you get there. It’s going to feel so different from Purgatory. That can be just as exciting as taking a variety of classes.”

I nodded my head.

“I sometimes worry about the kids who choose to go to college with their friends. That’s all they are allowing themselves to know. They never really leave Purgatory. But you have always seemed larger than this town. You have your own ideas about things, and I bet you’ll have an easier time finding others like you there.”

My eyes widened. I hoped she wasn’t saying what I thought she was saying. If Mrs. Mahoney could tell I was gay, then who else could tell?

“Just be ready to take advantage of those opportunities.” She finished, and patted my shoulder. “Sometimes, the people you meet, the experiences you’ll confront, are more important than the classes you take or even your grades.” She winked at me. “That’s my two cents worth of advice.” 

“Sounds like great advice.” I said back. 

“You’re stronger than you realize. You’ve got more figured out about yourself than most of your classmates. That makes you more mature than most of your peers, and while that might feel like a burden to you now, it will pay off in spades later.”

“I hope so.” I said. 

“Don’t you worry about it. I’ve really enjoyed watching you grow over the last four years. You are a pretty remarkable young woman. Leading a stage crew dominated by boys; you really are a natural leader. Just don’t sell yourself short.” She paused again. “I know you feel nervous about the play, but you really have nothing to worry about. I meant what I said before. I’ve never had anyone work harder on stage crew, or take their job more seriously. You’re going to do a great job.” She said.

“Thanks.” This time I actually felt better.

“Just promise me you’ll get something to eat before the start of the show. Even if you have to force it down. I can’t have you passing out on me. I don’t know what I would do without my right-hand woman.” 

I laughed at that. “Ok. I promise I’ll eat.”

I left the auditorium feeling much lighter. I felt like, even though I completely messed up whatever this was with Waverly, I still had a future. I had college to look forward to, with a whole new city of people to meet. I felt hope again.

 

 

After school, Jeremy cornered me in the booth, locking the door behind him when he walked in.

“So, you missed a really interesting story at lunch.” He gave me a hard look. “Apparently Perry told Waverly that he wrote those poems.” He let the words hang in the air like a question. 

I looked out the booth window at the stage. “Yeah, I heard that too.”

“Did you hear how it happened? So there was this whole weird plan to get the two of them alone on the stage together.” Again, he let his words drift like a dark cloud in the small room.

“Hmm.” I muttered back, still not looking at him.

“Sounds a lot like a plan we discussed to get you and Waverly on the stage to tell her that the poems are actually yours.” 

“Jeremy.”

“Nicole.”

“I couldn’t do it. I chickened out. And then Perry showed up and what’s done is done.” I said.

“What the hell are you talking about? How did Perry get to claim your work? I don’t get it.” He said, stepping up right next to me.

“I fucked it all up. Then Perry learned about the meeting and showed up himself to say he wrote the poems. I couldn’t stop him. But it seems like Waverly was happy enough with that.” I said, bitterly.

Jeremy gave me a confused look, “Huh? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

At that moment, we heard a knock on the door, and Waverly’s voice on the other side. “Nicole, are you in there?” She asked.

Jeremy pointed his finger at me, “You need to make this right.” He said before he opened the door and walked out. Waverly stepped in behind him, watching him walk away.

“Is he ok?” She asked, pointing her thumb back in the direction of Jeremy. 

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it. What’s up?” I asked, trying to steel myself. I knew what was coming. It was fine. Let it come. This wasn’t the end of my world.

“So I’ve been looking for you all day. I wanted to tell you what happened on Friday.” She said.

“Jeremy told me that Perry wrote the poems.” I headed her off at the pass.

“Yeah.” She looked a little deflated. “It’s strange. It was just like you said. He showed up and we talked for a bit.” She brought her brows together in a frown. “It’s weird, though. I thought I would be really excited to confirm it was him, but then it felt different, too”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, I love the poems so much, they’re so passionate. But it seemed like Perry was just Perry. I mean, he’s great and all, but it doesn’t feel like he’s that romantic. Isn’t that weird?”

“Not really.” I muttered.

“I was so ready for him to sweep me off my feet, but it felt awkward instead. I mean, he can be dramatic when playing the phantom, but this was only Perry.” She took a break to consider her words. “When he first came out on the stage I thought, this is great. But then we got spooked and left. I thought I heard someone outside the auditorium. But when we got to his car, all that magic was gone. It was just Perry and I sitting in his car.” She said.

“So what happened?” I couldn’t help myself, I must be into torture.

“Nothing.” 

“Nothing?” I asked. “But...” I cut myself off before it could slip out- what about your bra?

“Nothing. I’m kinda glad now. That would make this play even more awkward. Can I tell you a secret. I almost flashed him.”

“What!” I yelled.

“Yeah,” she buried her face in her hands. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” She shook her head. “I thought the poems made me feel so sexy, but then he didn’t.” She lifted her head and let out a deep breath. “So weird. I’m so confused.”

“So what now?” I asked, incredulous.

“I don’t know. I just want to get through this musical. Then I can think about it.” 

“Yeah.” I said, almost to myself.

“Anyway, I missed you this weekend.” She smacked me lightly on my thigh. “I wanted to hang out and talk about it.” She sat down and folded her arms over her lap.

“Sorry. I was really busy.” I said.

“That’s ok. But you’re coming to the cast party on Friday, right? Perry said that he could host an unofficial after-party, but I’m going to need you there.”

“Uh, sure. I’ll talk to Jeremy.” I said; I was getting better at remembering my boyfriend. 

“Great. At least Perry was enough of a gentleman that he didn’t push me on the whole flashing thing. But I’m worried it will be weird if we’re hanging out at his house late on our own.”

“I get it.” I said back. 

She stood up and took a step toward the door. “I should head back stage.” She said. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it, but break a leg.” I flashed her a grin.

Waverly gave me the brightest smile ever. “Thanks.” And she walked out.

 

Jeremy joined me in the booth to be a backup pair of hands, while Mrs. Mahoney stayed backstage. To pass the time and keep ourselves focused, we took turns singing the male and female parts of the songs. 

The show passed by quickly. Waverly did an excellent job. As I kept the spotlight focused on her, I felt my own passion rise and swell with her voice. During the song “Angel of Music,” I sang the part of the phantom, and during the song “All I Ask of You,” I sang the part of Raoul. I imagined that I was on stage ready to lean in and give her a kiss, despite having Jeremy next to me trying so hard to hit the high falsetto notes. 

“You better be careful, the glass isn’t perfectly soundproof.” I said. He looked at me, puzzled.

At the end of the play, Perry, Waverly and Champ were lined up at the front of the stage to receive their applause and it hit me how perfect they all were. They each represented something that I wasn’t, something I couldn’t have. I wasn’t out there on the stage with them. I was back hiding in the booth, dressed all in black, a shadow, a phantom. It broke my heart a little to see them up there. They deserved their recognition, but that was what was expected, like Raoul ending up with Waverly- I mean Christine. That was normal. That is what should happen. My feelings were different, other, hidden, only suitable for the dark booth. It had never been so clear. I was not a part of that world staged in front of me. I was a part of the shadows. 

Jeremy came over and wrapped an arm around me, pulling me into a hug. “You did a great job.” He said lightly. 

I let out a hot breath. “Thanks. I’m glad you were here with me.”

“Of course. It was kinda fun to sing along with them. Can we do that tomorrow, too?” He asked.

“Sure,” I nodded. 

 

Every night, Jeremy and I sang along from the booth. We traded the parts back and forth. Jeremy said that he loved my Christine in “All I Ask of You,” but I preferred the male roles, imagining myself opposite Waverly. 

Then every night at the end of the show, seeing the three leads lined up on stage taking their bows, it hit me harder and harder. That was not a world I was welcome to. That was not an option open for me. 

By Thursday, the feeling was overwhelming. When Jeremy gave me a hug during the bows, I actually broke down and started to cry, surprising both of us. 

“I can’t do this. I can’t watch them so happy up on stage. It’s so easy for them, everything they want is already a part of the plan for them. They don’t have to disappoint anybody when they fall in love, they don’t have to worry about getting beat up over a crush, they don’t have to hide everything from everyone in their lives.” I gasped out.

“You don’t have to hide with me.” Jeremy said, really worried.

“I know, but with everyone else. EVERYONE ELSE. I am the phantom. If I show my true face, God only knows what horrible things will happen.” I paused to catch my breath. “Do you know that the most hope I feel is knowing that I’m going to be leaving this shit hole town in a few months and I’m hoping that Lincoln will be different. But probably not. Probably not because, FUCK, we’re in fucking Nebraska.” I was shaking.

“Lincoln will be different. Trust me.” Jeremy tried to reassure me.

“Why?” 

“Because you won’t be so alone. Nebraska is huge. There’s something for everyone there. You’ll find your people.” He said. “Like the LGBT youth center. That’s in Lincoln. You should come with me sometime.”

“I’m so sick of hiding. I’m sick of being ashamed of who I like. I’m sick of feeling like I don’t belong anywhere.” I said, wiping away my tears.

There was a knock on the door.

“Nicole?” It was Waverly’s voice. “Are you in there?”

I flashed a horrified look at Jeremy and mouthed the words- I can’t. 

Jeremy took my hand in his and squeezed it. We both remained motionless and silent. 

Then from the door, again came, “Nicole?” Something pressed up against the door on the outside. I figured it was Waverly leaning against it. About a minute later, she started to sing “Think of Me.”

“Think of me, think of me fondly when we’ve said goodbye.  
Remember me, once in a while. Please promise me you’ll try.  
When you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free,  
If you ever find moment, spare a thought for me.”

Hearing her voice brought back all the pain. I winced and Jeremy pulled me into a tight hug. I cried silently into his shoulder. He held me until well after we were sure everyone else was gone. 

Jeremy drove my truck back to his house, thankfully his parents were out. 

He held my hand as we walked back to his bedroom, and we curled up together on his bed. 

“I have no idea what the future holds, but I promise it will be better than this.” He spoke so softly. 

I held him tighter as my tears came again. I’ve never felt so much like a girl before. 

 

I was close to falling asleep when we heard steps in the hallway. 

“Jeremy, I’m back. Is Nicole in there with you?” Mrs. Chetri said from the hall. Then she opened the door and her jaw fell open. We quickly separated on the bed and he bolted to his feet.

“Jeremy!” Mrs. Chetri yelled. “What is the meaning of this!”

“Mom! It’s not what it looks like.” He shot out. 

“Then what exactly is it?” She said, gesticulating between us. 

Jeremy and I looked at each other, his eyes as big as dinner plates. I had nothing.

“Jeremy, explain yourself.” She demanded.

Jeremy kept his eyes on me. 

“How dare you think that under our roof, you could...”

“I’m gay.” He yelled out, turning to his mom. And the room went silent.

Jeremy’s chest began to heave, and MY eyes were dinner plate sized. I was too afraid to turn my head to look at Mrs. Chetri. 

The silence stretched out, then, “Does Nicole know?” Mrs. Chetri asked in a hoarse whisper.

I couldn’t help it, I burst out laughing and quickly covered my face with my hands. 

“I don’t understand.” Said Mrs. Chetri. 

I peeked out through my fingers at Jeremy. He was watching me.

“I’m gay, Mom. What’s to understand?” He said. 

“You were lying in bed together. You’re dating!” She replied.

“No, we’re not.” Jeremy said. “We were just pretending.”

“Why would you do that?” She asked.

Jeremy let out an exasperated sigh. “Why do you think? Imagine what would happen if I came out as gay at Purgatory High. I’d be slaughtered like a damn hog.” 

“Jeremy!” She yelled again.

“Well, it’s true.” He said forcefully. “Nicole was protecting me. If we pretend to date, I get to graduate with my face intact.”

I chanced a glance over at Mrs. Chetri. Her face had softened. “Honey, why didn’t you tell me? Has someone been threatening you?”

“Not really, but it doesn’t take a stretch of the imagination to know what would happen if the guys at school found out about me.” 

“But I still don’t understand. Why were you all cuddled up together?” She asked.

“Nicole was really hurt by a friend, I was trying to comfort her.” He said cautiously.

I felt my cheeks light up as Mrs. Chetri looked down at me. She walked over to the bed and sat down on the end, placing her hand on my foot. “What happened?” She asked in the sweetest mom-voice. I was floored.

Jeremy spoke up, “Mom, it’s just friend problems.”

“I’m gay, too.” I blurted out at Mrs. Chetri, sitting up. Her eyes stayed on mine, but she gave my foot a gentle squeeze. 

“Honestly, that explains so much.” She said, gently.

“You’re not mad?” Asked Jeremy. Mrs. Chetri looked over at him.

“No, of course not.” She stopped to think. “I’m sad that you felt like you couldn’t tell me. I’m mad that you feel threatened at school. But I’m not mad at you.” She held out a hand to Jeremy.

He stared down at her hand, not sure what to do. I held out my hand and nodded.

Jeremy sat down on the bed and Mrs. Chetri wrapped us both in a giant hug. 

When she released us, she sat back. “Have you told your father?” She asked me.

I looked at her, dumbfounded. 

“I’m sorry, it’s not my place to say anything.” She started.

“No.” I said. She smiled at me and gave my foot another pat. I’d never thought about telling my dad. It’s not that I had some reason to assume he’d have a problem with it, but it just never felt like an option. I couldn’t, could I?

“I’m glad you both told me. And I’m even more relieved that you aren’t sleeping together.” She looked at Jeremy. “How do you want to handle telling your father?”

“I’m not ready. Can we just pretend a little longer? Maybe after graduation.” He said.

“Ok.” She looked around the room, then stood up. “Ok.” She stopped in the doorway as she walked out. “Nicole, do you want a snack?” 

I looked over at Jeremy. I felt exhausted and washed out. I really wanted to go home, take a hot shower, and go to bed. 

“I think I need to head home, but thanks.” I said.

 

Jeremy walked me out to my truck. “Are you sure you’re ok?” He asked.

“I feel like I should be asking you the same thing.” I let out a deep breath and laughed. The night had been surreal. 

“I’m ok. I think. Wow, I can’t believe I actually said that.” A grin grew across his face. He was really cute when he smiled. 

“I can’t believe it, either. You’re awesome.” I gave him a quick hug. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yep. One more show.”

“One more.” I agreed.

 

When I got home, my dad was watching TV. He was relaxing on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table. I sat down on the opposite side, kicked off my shoes, and joined him. He was watching an old western. I thought about the conversation with Mrs. Chetri, mulled it over in my head.

“Everything ok, Peanut?” He broke me out of my thoughts. 

“Yeah. Just a lot going on.” I said, leaning my head back against the couch.

“What’s up, anything I should know?”

I looked at him. Could I tell him? His eyes were worried, but he waited for me to speak.

But I couldn’t speak. The words got caught in my throat. They were impossible to say. Why was it easier to tell Mrs. Chetri? 

He sat up and turned off the TV. “You know you can tell me anything. I won’t get mad.” He said.

Still the words wouldn’t come. This was harder than I thought. Having Jeremy there to say the words first for his mom helped me, but now I was on my own. I stared at the blank TV screen. I couldn’t very well go back. He knew something was wrong. I had to say something.

“I think I might be gay.” My voice sounded so small.

My dad slowly let out a long breath. I didn’t want to look at him until he said something. 

“Oh, thank God. I thought something was actually wrong.” He eventually said.

I looked at him confused.

“I thought you were going to tell me you were doing drugs or something.” He let out a whistle. “I was really worried about you over the weekend.” 

“But, you don’t care?”

“Honestly, I’ve suspected for a while now. It’s not like boys have been a big deal for you.” He started to laugh. “I figured that either I’m the luckiest father alive or you’re probably gay.”

“But...” I was lost for words.

“Is there someone special?” He asked.

My cheeks burned up and my mouth fell slack.

“Is it Waverly?” He asked. “I wondered if there was something between you when we were watching the movie.”

I felt dangerously transparent. “I don’t understand.” I said.

“You looked exactly like how I felt the first time I watched a movie with a girl I was attracted to. Stiff as a board and unable to focus on the movie. I felt a little bad that I was sitting there when she cuddled up with you.”

I had no words.

“So, are you two dating or something?” He asked.

I shook my head. “No.” I was flabbergasted that I was having this conversation with my dad. “I think she’s straight.”

“Huh. Are you sure?” He suggested. “She seemed awfully comfortable with you.” He slowly stood up. “I’m just saying, it kinda looked like it.” He stretched out his back. “I’m so glad you aren’t doing drugs.” He said, shaking his head. “Good night, Peanut.” He leaned over and kissed my forehead as he passed me and then walked up the stairs to his room.

I sat on the couch for another hour, trying to absorb the night, before exhaustion took control of my body.

 

I found Jeremy in the halls before homeroom and dragged him into an empty corridor. 

“You are never going to guess what happened last night when I got home.” I whispered.

“What?” Jeremy asked.

“I came out to my dad.”

“No way. What happened?”

“He said he already knew. He guessed it a while ago.”

“So he was cool?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s awesome! Who knew this would be so easy?” He said.

“Right! How was it for you when your dad got home?” I asked.

“I didn’t see him. It was pretty late when he got home. I hid out in my room.”

“Was everything ok this morning?”

“Yeah. It’s a little weird that Mom knows, but not Dad. Mom kept trying to pass me secret winks over breakfast. I think she really wants me to tell him.”

“How do yo think he’ll react?” I asked.

“I have no idea.” He let out a sigh. “He’s more traditional than Mom, more formal.”

“Um, yeah, I remember.” I said, thinking back to my official introduction as Jeremy’s girlfriend. 

“Mom was wondering if we’re still going to prom together.” Said Jeremy.

“I don’t know. What do you think?” I asked.

“I think it will be fun, but only if you want to go. I also saw that the youth center in Lincoln is having an open mic night next weekend. We could go to that.” He suggested.

“I don’t know. What would we do there?” 

“You could read one of your poems.” Said Jeremy.

The idea stopped me cold. Read my poem out loud? To an actual audience.

“I don’t think so.” I said.

“Well, just think about it. Ok? It might be more fun than you think.” He gave my arm a quick squeeze before running off to his classroom.

 

At lunch, I decided to stop hiding in the production booth and join Jeremy, Perry and Waverly in the lunchroom. 

“Where have you been hiding this whole week?” Asked Perry. “It seems like I’ve only seen you at the musical and biology.”

I wanted to ignore him, but he didn’t know that he had stabbed me in the back. “Doing play stuff mostly.” 

“Are you glad it’s almost done?” Perry turned to Waverly. 

“I’m glad it’s almost over, but some things I’m going to miss. I won’t miss spending so much time with Champ. That’s one reason I’m glad it’s done today.” Waverly said.

“I’m going to miss spending so much time with you all. I feel like we’re just about to graduate and we missed out on all this time we could have been friends.” Said Perry, looking around the table. 

“Yeah.” Waverly smiled at him, but I noticed that the smile really didn’t touch her eyes and quickly fell away.

“Well, I can’t wait for the cast after-party. We’ll have my whole basement to ourselves.” Said Perry. “You’re all coming, right?”

I nodded my head, as Waverly watched me. Jeremy agreed, too.

“Is Champ invited?” Asked Waverly.

“Yes, I couldn’t leave him out. But I hope he doesn’t show. I haven’t heard back from him, so I’m guessing he’s busy.”

“I hope so.” Waverly and I said at the same time. She smiled at me this time and gave me a quick wink. That smile did reach her eyes. That made me smile. Maybe my dad was right.

 

Before the play began, Waverly found me in the booth getting ready. 

“Hey Nicole, do you mind if I leave my bag in here with you?” She asked.

“Of course. Why?” I wondered.

“You always seem to sneak out of here right after the shows. I don’t want you to take off before the after-party. I’m holding you to your promise.”

“Don’t worry. I’m coming to the party.”

“Can I ride with you? I brought the Concrete Blonde tape again.” She pulled the plastic cassette from her bag and waved it in front of me.

“I bought that album on my phone so we can listen to it anytime.” I said.

“But then I won’t have an excuse to play with your tape deck.” She pouted. 

“Fine.” I relented, laughing. 

Waverly jumped up and gave me a quick kiss on my cheek. “Thanks.” She smiled and waved from the door before disappearing down the hall. 

I willed my heart to start beating again.

 

Jeremy joined me for the final time in the booth. As we were double checking our equipment settings, I looked over at Jeremy. He was right there, next to me. This whole semester, through everything.

“Hey Jeremy,” I looked back down at the bank of electronics. I heard him stop.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.” I peeked over at him.

“For what?”

“For everything. For being such an awesome friend. I don’t know how I would have survived all of this without you.”

“What are friends for?” He said.

“Yeah, but this is big. Really big. I feel like you’ve been here to rescue me, or something. I don’t know what I would have done without you.” I said.

“Nicole, you’ve saved me just as much as I’ve saved you this semester. We’re a team.” He said. 

“My dad said something last night that I’m not sure about.” I paused, “He thinks Waverly might like me, too. He said she seemed really comfortable with me. What do you think?”

“I think she definitely likes you as a friend, but it’s hard to tell the rest. Girls are so hard for me to read.” He said.

“But you can read me like a damn book.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because it’s you.” He giggled. “You’re something of an open book.”

I flipped him the bird and he laughed. 

We heard a knock on the door, and Mrs. Mahoney popped her head in.

“Nicole, I want you to come down at the end of the show to receive some recognition for all of your hard work on this production. After the leads and I go out on stage for our bows, I’m going to invite you to join me on stage.” She turned to Jeremy. “Do you think you can handle the booth on your own for a few minutes?”

“Sure.” He replied. 

“Thanks. And remember, after the final curtain, just come down back stage and I’ll signal you to join me.”

“Ok.” I looked over at Jeremy, unsure. He was grinning at me. After she left, I said, “Shut up.”

 

It was my last show. Jeremy was next to me and we were both singing all the parts of the songs that day. I kept my spotlight trained perfectly on Waverly, holding her in the light. I wanted to escape into this final performance. I wouldn’t have another chance to just watch Waverly so unreservedly, to stare without shame, to admire her without consequence. 

At the end of the performance, I left Jeremy to handle the curtain movements and lights, while I slipped into the theater backstage. I found Mrs. Mahoney and she gave my shoulders a hug. “We did it.” She whispered into my ear.

I looked around for Waverly and spotted her on the other side of the stage with Perry and Champ, waiting for their cues. She was smiling and laughing with them both. 

“What are you going to do with all of your new free time?” Asked Mrs. Mahoney. 

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll look at all the cool things I can do in Lincoln.” I said.

“Atta girl.” Mrs. Mahoney said with another short squeeze of my shoulders. I grinned and looked up. I caught Waverly watching me from the opposite wing. 

When it was my turn to join the cast on stage, I stood off to the side next to Mrs. Mahoney. In my black jeans and t-shirt, I didn’t feel like I belonged with the cast. But then Waverly walked over to me in the middle of the applause, grabbed my hand, and led me out into the middle of the stage. I stood next to her and looked out over the full house. They were standing and applauding me.

I have to admit, it felt really great.

 

After a quick celebratory pizza backstage for the whole cast and crew, Waverly, Jeremy, and I all piled into my truck. Jeremy insisted that the smallest (Waverly) had to take the middle. She didn’t argue too much since she wanted easy access to the tape deck. 

We drove over to Perry’s house. In the basement, Perry had an assortment of snacks and sodas. When Champ showed up and realized there wasn’t any alcohol, he grabbed Samantha Baker’s hand and promptly left, but most of the cast stayed. 

After a while, a group of us were sitting in a circle. Someone suggested spin the bottle, but that was quickly shut down. Then Perry stood up and said that he always wanted to sing the part of Raoul in “All I Ask of You.” He looked over at Waverly. Waverly watched him and blushed when she realized he wanted her to sing with him. She looked over at me with panic in her eye. Then a sophomore cast member jumped up and said she would sing with him. 

In the center of the room, in front of our small crew, Perry and Sam sang the song and then kissed lightly at the end. And it was born, the Phantom of the Opera version of spin the bottle. Couples taking turns singing the parts of Raoul and Christine, ending in the kiss. We all sat in the circle, cheering on the staged lovers. 

It was when Waverly jumped up, that my heart stopped. “I’ve already performed this too many times as Christine; I want to sing Raoul’s part.” The group cheered. “Who will be my Christine?” She asked looking around the room. As the guys considered singing a female part, a voice spoke up next to me. 

It was Jeremy.

“Nicole!”

The room turned to look at him. 

“We’ve been singing all the songs with you guys from the booth. Nicole has a great voice. She should sing Christine.” Jeremy went on.

Then everyone was looking at me; I was looking at Waverly. She held out her hand to me.

“Well, come on Christine.” She said.

I reluctantly stood and stepped up next to her. 

Waverly started the duet. She gently took my hands in hers, and looked up into my eyes. The rest of the room disappeared, as I felt my pulse quicken.

“No more talk of darkness,  
Forget these wide-eyed fears.  
I’m here, nothing can harm you,  
My words will warm and calm you.

Let me be your freedom,  
Let daylight dry your tears.  
I’m here, with you, beside you,  
To guard you and to guide you.”

Then my part started.

“Say you love me every waking moment,  
Turn my head with talk of summertime.  
Say you need me with you now and always.  
Promise me that all you say is true.  
That’s all I ask of you.”

Waverly took back over. My hands were starting to shake in hers.

“Let me be your shelter,  
Let me be your light.  
You’re safe, no one will find you,  
Your fears are far behind you.”

Waverly’s eyes captivated me and I almost missed my entrance.

“All I want is freedom,  
A world with no more night.  
And you, always beside me,  
To hold me and to hide me.”

Her smile stretched out across her whole face, lighting up her eyes from within. She casually shook her head as she sang her next verse.

“Then say you’ll share with me one love, one lifetime.  
Let me lead you from your solitude.  
Say you need me with you, here beside you.  
Anywhere you go, let me go too,  
Christine, that’s all I ask of you.”

In a heartbeat, I jumped in and briefly squeezed her hands in mine.

“Say you’ll share with me one love, one lifetime.  
Say the word and I will follow you.  
Share each day with me, each night, each morning.  
Say you love me.”

Waverly’s voice caught for a moment, before she responded.

“You know I do.” Her voice sounded weaker, less sure.

But together we started the next line.

“Love me, that’s all I ask of you.”

Waverly was supposed to finish with me, but her voice dropped off. She looked at me, overwhelming panic in her eyes. Her hands went limp in mine.

She was supposed to lean in and give me a kiss, but she froze instead, her very breath arrested in her chest. 

That’s when it hit me. She was terrified. Of me.

I dropped her hands and walked out of the room.

As I started up the stairs to leave, I heard a freshman grumble, “Oh man, I thought we were gonna get some girl on girl action.” 

The comment stabbed into me, and I ran up the rest of the stairs and out of the house. All I could see was the look on Waverly’s face.

I was almost to my truck when I heard the front door shut behind me.

“Nicole, wait!” It was Waverly. 

I wiped the tears falling down my cheeks and turned to face her.

“I’m sorry. I got scared.” She said, walking up to me.

I rolled my eyes.

“What?” She recoiled a bit.

“I scare you?” I spat out. I was devastated, no better time for the truth. “I have cared for you for so long. I helped you after Chrissy’s party. I listened to you complain about Champ. But I scare you.” I took several deep breaths. “You want to know who wrote those poems for you? I did. Not Perry, not fucking Champ. Me.” I pointed back at myself. The tears were flowing easily now and my voice was carrying farther than I probably wanted it to, but fuck it.

“I don’t understand.” She said. “You told me Perry wrote them; he told me he wrote them.” 

“Yeah, well, I guess we’re both liars.”

“But they’re love poems.” She said.

“And.” I said, giving her a pointed look.

“You...” she started, then stopped. 

“They were supposed to be my “music of the night” for you.” I gestured wildly. “I’ve spent this whole semester watching you, trying to support you, falling in love with you. But it was killing me having to hide it.” I paused. “Waverly, all this time, I thought I was your Phantom, but really, you were mine.”

Her face screwed up in pain as a couple tears dropped from her eyes. “You ass.” She said hotly, smacking my chest. 

I spun and walked back to my truck. I didn’t turn back. For the first time, I didn’t want to see her. I was done watching her.

I jumped in my truck and drove home.

 

The next week in school, I completely stopped using my locker. Jeremy and I sat off by ourselves during lunch and if I saw Waverly in the halls, I took a different route or simply looked the other way, refusing to make eye contact. 

I was surprised how much weight was lifted off of me by telling Waverly the truth. I felt largely unburdened. Even my dad noticed it when I got home from school. 

“Hey Peanut. You look different.” He said, watching me by the stove. He was absently stirring some vegetables in a pan. 

“Yeah, well, I feel different.” I stepped up next to him and picked a green bean from the pan, popping it in my mouth. 

“Is everything ok?” 

I swallowed, then said, “I told Waverly how I felt. Nothing happened, though. She’s straight, like I thought. But it was great to get that off my chest.” I stopped to consider my words. “I didn’t realize how much it was controlling me, but once I said it out loud to her, it’s like it took all the power out of those feelings.”

“How are things between you and Waverly?” He asked, turning off the stove and facing me.

“We’re not talking, but it’s ok. I don’t feel so tied up in her.”

Dad gave me his patented “dad look.”

“Seriously, it’s ok. I’m graduating soon, I’ll be in Lincoln. It’s not like this could ever really be something. Maybe it’s better this way. This is a lesson learned for me.” I said with as much confidence as I could pull together.

“Nicole.”

“Dad. Really.” I felt my confidence slipping. “It’s ok. It has to be ok, because it can’t be anything more.” The weight of my feelings pressed in a little closer.

“Come here.” He reached out and pulled me into an engulfing hug. “The first heartbreak is always the worst.” He spoke softly, and it was like the dam broke.

 

We ended up eating dinner on the couch together watching his “cure for heartbreak” movie, ie. Spaceballs. After he finished his dinner, he set his plate down on the living room table and stretched out a hand to ruffle my hair.

“I hope you don’t change your hair color because of all this.” He brushed some hair behind my ear. “The red has really grown on me. I think it really suits you.”

I pulled my head out of his reach and laughed. “You think?”

“Yes. It makes you stand out. And you really are a stand out kid.” He smiled at me.

I tried to hide my smile in a grumble and refocused on the TV. 

 

Jeremy convinced me to check out the open mic night at the LGBT youth center in Lincoln that weekend. We drove up in my truck together; Jeremy complaining about my taste in music.

“So what was it like when you came up for the movie night?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the highway.

“It wasn’t anything fancy, just some snacks and drinks. They had a table with some flyers and information on it. There was a social hour before the movie started, and then we all sat down to watch the movie.”

“So how many kids were there? You said they were a mix of high school and college students.” 

“Yeah, actually it was mostly college students, but a few high school. I don’t know, there were maybe twenty kids there in total. And a bunch of counselors from the center.” He said.

“Was it mostly men or women?”

“It was a mix of both.” I saw him give me a weird look out of the corner of my eye. “Why do you ask?”

“I just don’t know what to expect.” I answered.

“Are you nervous?” 

“NO!” I responded a little too forcefully.

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks.” Jeremy said to himself.

“Don’t pull your Shakespeare out on me.”

“Look, I was nervous, too, the first time I showed up. But it’s a really relaxed atmosphere. You’ll see you have nothing to be worried about.” He paused a bit and then sang out the next sentence. “Unless it’s because you’re nervous about reading your poems...” He winked at me.

“Jeremy, I didn’t even bring my poems.”

“But I did.” He pulled out a couple pages of paper from an inside pocket in his coat.

“Where did you get those?” I asked, alarmed.

“I may have asked Waverly for a copy of them.” He said apologetically.

“Why?” 

“Because I knew you wouldn’t bring them if I asked you to.”

I shook my head, he was absolutely right. “I’m surprised she didn’t burn them.”

“Well, she didn’t.” 

“I’m not reading them.” I said.

“I wanted to bring them, just in case.”

I shook my head again and rolled my eyes.

 

When we got to the center, the parking lot was almost completely full. 

“I thought you said there weren’t that many people here before.” I looked at Jeremy as we got out of the truck. 

“There weren’t. I guess this is a more popular event than movie night.”

When we walked in the door, I could tell there were way more than twenty people there. The center was mostly a large meeting room with a hallway leading down the side to the bathrooms and offices. In the great room, there were many rows of folding chairs pointed to the front where a podium and microphone stand were waiting. Along the back wall were several long tables decorated with rainbows and large bowls of snacks and cookies. Another table had drinks and the final table was covered with books and pamphlets. There were dozens of people milling about and talking. They mostly seemed older and appeared to know each other. 

An older man approached us, he wore an employee name tag, and held out his hand to greet us. 

“Hi, I’m Mike.” He smiled broadly at both of us. When he looked at Jeremy, he furrowed his brows. “You look familiar.”

“I attended a movie night a few weeks ago.” 

“That’s it.” His face broke out into a wide grin. “I’m glad you made it back, and brought a friend. This is a signature event of ours. I really hope you enjoy it.” Mike said. “There are name tags over on the information table, if you don’t mind writing out a name you feel comfortable sharing and please write down your preferred pronouns as well.” He directed us to the last table. 

As Jeremy and I walked over to the table, I leaned over and spoke into his ear. “A name we feel comfortable sharing?” I asked.

“I’m guessing that not everyone is ok with sharing their real names. So they want you to know that you can choose a pseudonym if you want. No judgement.” Jeremy said.

“Did you choose a pseudonym last time?”

“No.”

“Should I?”

“Are you worried about it?” He asked.

“Not really.” I said honestly. 

 

Just before the show began, Jeremy and I chose a couple seats towards the back. He pulled out the pages from his pocket again and placed them in my lap. I looked over at him and scowled, shaking my head.

“Just think about it.” He whispered, as Mike stood up to introduce himself at the podium. 

The first person stood up to share a poem. It was about coming out, his parents rejecting him, but his finding strength in the gay community. 

The second person stood up and shared a poem that was political and angry.

As more and more people stood to share their works, I realized that almost all of it was poetry. I wasn’t sure what to expect from an open mic night when we drove up, but I had fears it would be a lot of weird interpretive dances. I held the pages in my hands and looked down at them. They suddenly didn’t seem so strange. It didn’t feel quite so weird that I wrote poems myself. 

I looked over at Jeremy and he smiled at me. I refocused my eyes on the reader at the podium, but my hands began to shake. I felt bolts of nervous energy course through me, adrenaline causing my heart to pound wildly in my chest. 

Maybe I could read my poems. Or one poem.

A short line was starting to form next to podium. I took a slow deep breath and let it out.

When that speaker was done, I turned to Jeremy.

“Do you really think I should read a poem?” I asked.

“Definitely.” He put his hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. 

“Which one should I read?” 

“The Moon Rising one.” He didn’t even hesitate.

I looked down at the pages again, as the next speaker began. I flipped to the Moon Rising poem and read through it. My chest was rising and falling sharply; I felt like I was running a marathon. 

Jeremy gave my shoulder another soft squeeze. I looked at him and he winked back. Before my nerves got the best of me, I stood up, walked around the audience and got in line by the podium.

There were four people ahead of me, and I quickly considered sitting back down. But then someone else walked up to stand behind me, partially blocking my path.

I took a deep breath and tried to listen to the poem being read, but my brain was racing. My hands were shaking. I tried to hold my poem still so I could read through it again, but accidentally tore the corner. 

Shit.

I put my hands down by my side, rolled my shoulders back, and tried to concentrate on my breathing.

Three more people.

I sort of listened to the next woman. Her poem was kinda funny and about coming out to her family. I felt a little calmer.

Two more people.

I noticed that line behind me was getting longer. I wondered how long the event lasted.

When the last person in front of me walked up to the podium, I had nothing between me and the stage. I felt like I was free falling, I had no ground around me. I looked over at Jeremy in a panic and he was smiling at me with the widest grin. He waved at me and gave me a thumbs up and I smiled back. I would do this for Jeremy. I wasn’t sure I had the courage to do it for myself, but I could do it for him.

When the woman finished her poem and the applause died down, I took my first step toward the podium. I was silently glad there was a podium because I was sure I couldn’t keep my hands still enough to hold the poem and read it. 

I set the poem down on the sloped wooden surface. I cleared my throat and heard it ring out across the room over the speakers. 

‘Um, my name in Nicole and I wrote this poem. It’s called Moon Rising.” I said. My voice sounded strange coming out of the speakers. I took a steadying breath and read the first line. I kept my eyes firmly on the paper, but I got through it. I read the next line, and the one after that, and it didn’t end my life. 

I smiled a bit. I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I read the next line and chanced a glance up at the room. Everyone was watching me. Nobody was giggling or talking over me. Everyone was listening to what I was saying. They were actually listening to me.

I smiled wider as I read the next stanza, looking up to see the audience watching. The nerves I felt before seemed to melt away and in their place I felt joy, pride, courage. 

I finished the poem and the entire room applauded me. I couldn’t help my wide smile. It was like standing up on the stage at school receiving the applause after the show, but better because this was only for me. Entirely for me. I earned this.

I walked back to Jeremy feeling elated. I had never felt like that before. He stood up and gave me a quiet hug as the next reader started. “I am so proud of you.” He spoke softly to me. My grin was ear to ear.

My hands were still shaking, but I was able to listen again to the readers and really enjoy their works. 

After the last reader spoke and Mike got back up to remind us that there were still refreshments in the back of the room, Jeremy and I rose together. He pulled me into another hug and I relaxed into his embrace.

“Hi.” I heard a soft, female voice behind me. I let go of Jeremy and slowly turned around to see who was talking. 

She wore a beautiful, bright smile. She had soft brown eyes, shoulder length black hair, and smooth mocha skin. She was gorgeous. My breath caught in my throat.

“Hi,” she said again, holding out her hand to me. “My name’s Shea.” I slowly lifted my hand to take hers. Why on earth was someone like her talking to me. 

“I really liked your poem.” She continued. When she smiled, I melted a little. I could feel the heat rising on my cheeks.

“Thanks.” I said back, unsure of my voice.

“It was very sensual. I really liked it. It was so different from the other poems.” She said. I no longer had heat on my cheeks, but an inferno. 

“Did you take a poetry class?” She asked.

Suddenly, I looked at her confused. “Poetry class?”

“At Nebraska.” She clarified. 

“Oh, um. I’m still in high school.” I replied.

Shea shook her head as she smirked. Then her head and shoulders dropped. “A high schooler.” She looked back up at me. “Too bad.” She let out a sigh. “Well, you should know, whoever you wrote that poem for is really lucky.” She smiled again at me and then walked off.

I was completely baffled. 

Jeremy nudged me from behind. “Aren’t you glad you read your poem.” 

 

I was still buzzing on the ride back home. Jeremy played some music on his phone. We rolled down our windows and sang as loud as we could to the dark night outside. 

 

On Monday, I didn’t avoid my locker. When I ran into Waverly there, I even said a quick hi before walking off. I found that when I saw her in the halls, it didn’t hurt so much, and it was ok to share the same space with her. I still wasn’t talking to Perry.

On Tuesday, she said hi back and smiled at me. At lunch, I even caught her looking over at me from Chrissy’s table.

Wednesday, the posters for prom went up in the halls. It was that weekend, and the prom committee was starting to decorate the school early. When I ran into Waverly at the end of the day, she asked me if I was going to prom. I shook my head. It was ok, I really didn’t care about the dance. It was just another place to feel like an outsider. I now had a place where I felt like I truly belonged. 

Thursday, Jeremy and I were sitting together at lunch when Waverly started to walk toward us. I smiled at her, but she quickly changed directions and walked away. I looked over at Jeremy and shook my head, but he wore a slight grin. 

“What?” I asked.

“Oh nothing.” He said with a roll of his eyes. I smacked his arm.

On Friday, the whole school was churning with excitement over prom. The school was totally decorated, and there was a rally in the gym at the end of the day. I sat with Jeremy and looked over the crowds of students. Just then I saw the back of Waverly’s head. She was talking to Chrissy. 

I leaned in to Jeremy, “Who is going with Waverly to prom?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I know Perry asked her before the after-party debacle. She hasn’t told you?” He asked.

“No, we’re not really talking still. Mostly just hi at the locker, that sort of thing.”

Jeremy nodded his head. “What are your plans for Saturday, since we’re not going to prom?” He asked me.

“I thought I might hang out at home. Maybe try to write some more poetry.” 

“Caught the bug, huh.” He said.

“Sort of, yeah.” I smiled back at him.

“Can I read whatever you write?”

“Of course.” I said, ruffling his hair.

“Hey, stop it. I had it perfectly done.” He batted away my hand and smoothed his hair back in place.

Saturday night, I sat in my room, my notebook open before me on the desk. I was imagining Waverly at the dance, probably with Perry, in a beautiful dress, and having the time of her life. It was funny, I didn’t feel bad about it anymore. Well, the Perry part still made me mad, but after the poetry reading, and meeting Shea, I knew I belonged somewhere. Maybe it wasn’t in Purgatory, but there was a place for me. And that knowledge helped me get over the pain of missing Waverly. 

As I thought about her in her gown, dancing the night away, I knew I wanted her to be happy. Even if it wasn’t with me, I still hoped she was happy. That thought made me smile.

“Hey Nicole,” I heard my dad yell up at me from the living room. “There’s someone here to see you.” He called.

I furrowed my brows, looking down at my notebook, and tried to picture who would come over.

“If it’s Jeremy, tell him I’m busy.” I yelled to my desk. “I kinda want to be on my own right now.”

“It’s me.” A soft voice came from my bedroom’s doorway. I jumped up and spun around.

There was Waverly. And she was in her prom dress.

“God, you scared me.” I said, my heart pounding. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you.” She was watching me closely.

“Why aren’t you at prom?”

“I didn’t have anyone to go with.” 

I looked at her confused. “But surely Perry or Champ...”

“You mean the liar and the cheat.” She said coldly. She stopped to look around my room for a moment, before meeting my eyes again.

“Plus, the person I really wanted to go with, didn’t have the courage to ask me.” 

I looked at her even more confused.

She took one step into my room.

“I told you that you scared me, and it was true.” She said slowly. She took another step closer to me. My heart was beyond racing; it was flying.

“But now, I wonder if maybe I scared you more.” She said so softly that I wasn’t sure I heard her over the rushing sound in my ears. She stepped up in front of me. I was completely paralyzed. 

“Is that why you wrote those poems?” She was standing right in front of me, but looking at her feet. I felt my back break out into a cold sweat. Then she looked up at me and I thought I might collapse. I couldn’t answer her.

She continued to look into my eyes, and I was hypnotized. I had no control over my body. I was completely at her mercy.

“Nicole?” She asked. I startled slightly in reply.

“Why did you write me those poems?” Her voice was soft but confident. 

“Because.” The word left my mouth.

“Because why?”

“Because I couldn’t say it out loud.”

“Will you read them to me?” She asked, and I firmly shook my head, no.

“Please.” I felt my nervous resolve breaking under the pressure of her eyes.

“Please.” She repeated, and from her small clutch, she pulled out the well-worn, folded pieces of paper that I had slipped into her locker weeks ago.

She handed them to me. I quickly glanced down at them, Moon Rising was on top. Then I saw Waverly lean in; she placed the side of her head on my shoulder and waited for me to start.

“Moon Rising.” My voice broke and I started again. “Moon Rising” This time I tried to say it with more confidence. It helped that she wasn’t looking at me.

“Your breast is the moon rising  
The delicate white curve   
Lifting the tides of my blood  
I feel you pull on me”

Waverly wrapped an arm around my waist.

“Your body calls to me  
Like the moon calls to the ocean wave  
Your breast draws my eyes  
I cannot look away”

She rolled her head so that her forehead now rested on my chest.

“Your beauty overwhelms me” She started to sway lightly and I followed her.  
“My thoughts always circle you  
Wanting to pull you in  
Ever pressing, ever pushing”

She brought her other arm around my waist and held her purse behind my back.

“You are the gravity I feel  
The moon’s magnetic pull  
On my blood, on my eyes, on my thoughts  
I cannot escape this orbit” 

My voice faltered on the last line, but she kept swaying. Slowly, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other and I continued to follow her lead.

“Read it again.” She spoke to my stomach.

I placed my arms around her shoulders, pressing her gently to me. I held out the poem behind her back, but closed my eyes and recited it from memory, picturing the page perfectly in my mind. 

When I was done, she said, “That was beautiful.” Another centuries-long minute passed as we just held each other. Then she said, “Will you dance with me?”

I heard my dad walking up the steps from the living room and looked up, cursing under my breath. I had no where to go, no where that was safe.

“I don’t know where to take you.” I said, pushing her away from me in case my dad looked in my room. “I don’t have my school key anymore.” 

“I know where we can go.” She said.

 

We got in my truck and Waverly slid all the way over to sit next to me. She didn’t bother to put on any music. Instead, she rested her head on my shoulder and let the silence sing. 

She only spoke to give me directions. We were heading way out of town, well into all the corn fields. This was a part of the county I wasn’t as familiar with. It was mostly just fields, sparsely lighted by the road lamps. 

When she directed me down a narrow gravel path, I looked up to see the ghost of a house sitting completely dark at the end of the driveway. 

“Where are we?” I asked quietly, almost afraid to speak too loud that I might disturb some long resting spirits.

“This is our homestead. This is where I grew up.” She said, leaning forward to look out the windshield more closely. 

I looked over at Waverly, unsure what to say.

“If you pull up past the house, I’ll show you where we’re going.” She said.

I parked the truck next to the house and beyond it I saw the remains of a rusted out corn silo. It wasn’t very big, as opposed to the ones the farms use now, and the top had caved in. There were rust stains along the upper ridge and the ladder ended in open air.

We got out of the truck and Waverly started to gingerly walk down the gravel path toward the silo. I jogged up next to her and offered my arm to steady her in her dress shoes. She reached both hands around my arm and pulled herself into me. 

“We’re just going up there.” She took one hand away from my arm and pointed to the cracked concrete pad on which the silo sat. 

We walked over to the pad and Waverly looked up to the top where the curved roof was missing. 

“Wynonna and I used to play out here all the time. We weren’t supposed to, but we’d climb the ladder. At first, I was afraid to climb more than just a few steps, but Wy would dare me to climb higher and higher. When I finally climbed all the way to the top, I felt like I was flying. The wind would whip through my hair, push through my clothes, almost lifting me up. I was sure that’s what birds felt when they flew.” She just kept looking up at the top of the silo.

“It looks so much smaller now. Even if the roof wasn’t missing, it just looks small. This silo used to loom large in my memory. It was here before everything went to shit for us. It was where we were just sisters.” 

“How often do you see her?” I asked.

“Not often. She travels so much. I guess that’s why I like coming back here. I feel like I’m close to her again.” She took a long breath and sighed. “This is like my version of your playground.” She turned to look around her. 

The light from the single, overhead street lamp barely stretched back to the broken pad of the silo. The night air was cool but invigorating. It held a whisper of promise. On the breeze was the sound of bullfrogs just starting to wake up to the oncoming summer. I spun in a slow circle, trying to imagine what Waverly was seeing in her mind. To me, it was ruins, but to her it clearly meant more. 

When I faced her again, I was surprised to see her watching me. She had a gleam in her eyes that wasn’t due to the street light. 

“Will you dance with me?” She asked. I nodded my head, afraid my voice wouldn’t hold up. She looked down at her phone and tapped it once and set it on the ground. Then from the device came the drawling sound of a guitar. I immediately recognized the song. It was one of my dad’s favorites, Eric Clapton’s “Wonderful Tonight.” 

“I love this song.”

“Me too.”

She stepped up to me, placed one arm on my shoulder, and held the other out for me to take in my palm. 

I lifted my hand to meet hers, I was shaking, but it had nothing to do with the light spring breeze. I swallowed hard as I wrapped my other hand around her waist. It rested lightly on the small of her back. I felt her waist start to shift with the music. I pulled her in a little closer so that my hips would match hers. 

Her face stayed inches from my chest as she looked out over my shoulder. 

I closed my eyes and concentrated on not messing up my rhythm. 

“This is nice.” She said. I nodded my head again, and she rested her cheek on my shoulder, her lips so close to my neck that I could feel her breathing. The steady pulse of air pulled me out of my head and the only things that existed were her breath, her hand, her cheek, her body. 

By the second verse, I forgot about rhythm and just moved with her. I brought my hand up a little higher on her back and could feel the tickle of the bottom edge of her hair. When I stretched up my thumb, I crossed the line from dress to skin. It was impossibly soft, covering the rounded ridge of her spine, and it took me back to the night she asked me to touch her. I lifted my hand a little higher, placing my fingertips along her back and slowly ran them over and across, as far as the dress would allow. Goosebumps rose up under my fingers and a soft moan washed up against my neck with her breath. 

As the final verse came to a close, I gently squeezed Waverly’s hand. “I don’t want this to end.” I said, voicing my plea to the heavens for just a little more time.

Waverly took her hand from my palm and wrapped them both around my neck. Turning her head, she rested her cheek against me. “I’m way ahead of you.” She said, as the song started again from the beginning. She had it set on repeat. I closed my eyes, held her to me as closely as I dared, and disappeared into the moment.

Heart: Way to go, stud. I’m really proud of you.

Brain: Will you be quiet; I’m dancing.

 

When I pulled the truck up to her house, I cut the engine and looked down at Waverly cuddled into my side. She had her eyes closed, but her grin told me she wasn’t asleep. 

“Do we have to stop driving?” She asked.

“No.” I smiled. I didn’t want the night to end any more than she did.

“Did you really think I was your phantom?” She asked. Her eyes were still closed.

I let out a sigh. “I guess it wasn’t really you, but my feelings for you. They were pulling me down into a really dark place.”

“And how could you think you were my phantom?” Her hand ran up and down my thigh.

“I was sure that I was a freak, for liking you. But I couldn’t help it. All I could do was watch you from the booth and want what I couldn’t have.”

“What you thought you couldn’t have because you were too chicken to just talk to me.” She very helpfully clarified. 

“Thanks.” I groaned.

“Just keepin’ it real.”

I laughed at her cocky smirk.

“Can we pick a new musical? I don’t want either of us to be the phantom. Plus dying of a broken heart is bullshit.” She said, spinning around so that her head rested on my lap next to the steering wheel.

I brushed a strand of her black hair off her forehead. I wondered if she would go back to brown now that the show was over.

“What do you have in mind?” I asked.

“I don’t know. What about ‘The Sound of Music?’ You could be the Captain Von Trapp and I could be Maria, melting your cold heart with my voice.” She smiled up at me.

“Hey!” I took a couple seconds to think of a reply. “Maybe I’m Nala and you are Simba in the ‘Lion King.’ I open your eyes to the attraction you feel for me.” I replied. 

“You certainly did that.” She ran a finger along my chin. “When we were singing ‘All I Ask of You’ in Perry’s basement, I already knew I wanted to kiss you. And that was the perfect opportunity.” She paused. “Everyone expected us to kiss. It would have been ok. But I knew just how much I wanted to kiss you. If I did, I was afraid that everyone else would be able to see it, too.”

“You wanted to kiss me?” I asked. “But you didn’t know the poems were mine, yet.”

“You dummy. I didn’t want to kiss you because of a couple poems.” 

I looked at her confused. “But why?”

“Because, I feel like I can be myself with you. Because I feel safe with you. Because I feel like all the magnets in my body line up when I’m alone with you. Do I have to keep going?” She smiled playfully.

“Well, don’t let me stop you.” I said, nonchalantly. “So, how did you know where to find me tonight?”

“Jeremy. I asked him on Monday. He was doing recon for me.”

“That little asshole. I’ll never trust him again.” I said, sarcastically.

Waverly laughed and sat up. She straightened out her dress. “Walk me to the door?”

I walked her up to the front porch stretching out across the front of her house. She turned to face me under the porch light. It felt awfully bright and a couple moths circled the bulb.

Waverly placed her hand on my cheek and pulled my attention back down to her. I knew what she was expecting, what I was expecting. And I really wanted it, but it’s incredible how hard it is to actually get your body to bend and lean down to kiss the most beautiful woman in school. What if I didn’t do it right...

Waverly stretched up and placed her lips on mine, and my brain shut off for a little while.

That night, spilling out of me so freely, I wrote a new poem.

First Kiss

It should have been too early for moths,  
And yet, circling the bare bulb by your door,  
The midnight butterflies were dancing.

Pulled by something larger than themselves  
Even at the risk of their own demise,  
Darting forward, pulling back, unsure but still ready.

I loved the moment just before we kissed.  
The question mark of space between us,  
I was so naked, everything before you.

First the question  
Then the resounding answer  
Yes

 

 

Reprise:  
Do you remember your first big crush? Mine was on the girl next locker down.

Like I said, I got my happy ending. It even came sealed with a kiss. But as we all know, the ending is really only the beginning...


End file.
